


Swords & Sorcery

by wawrthur



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Florence and the Machine - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, Light Bondage, M/M, Nightmares, Roommates, Symbolism, dub-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-28
Updated: 2012-11-28
Packaged: 2017-11-19 17:52:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 28,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/576013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wawrthur/pseuds/wawrthur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>"The thing is - no one really understands what magic is. Some think it’s a weapon of power, others believe it’s a choice. There are tales of infamous sorcerers, who controlled their magic so well, they were practically undefeatable.<br/>But what no one actually gets - not even Merlin, despite the fact that his bond with magic is stronger than most people have, - is the simple truth. Magic is, in reality, love."</i><br/> Written for the Prompt #5: Arthur and Merlin's adventures in the Swords and Sorcery Academy</p><p>Author's note: 1) some clues lay in the extras :D (when you see numbers in the story - go there)<br/>2) the Word Count is lying, it's really not that much<br/>3) The link to the fanmix/soundtrack download is in the extras as well<br/>4) Many heartfelt thanks go to the wonderful Emjayelle for being basically the best mod ever</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It has been brought to my attention recently that some of the major NC-17 scenes might be viewed as **dubious consent** scenes. Please use discretion while reading.   
>  However, I would like to specify that according to this particular AU, none of the paired-up people can do any mental or physical harm to each other unless they perform a very specific ritual. In addition, consent _is_ present in all of the scenes but it isn't mentioned more than once which might lead to confusion about the nature of the interaction.  
>  In spite of that, I would like to do justice to the readers and mention that some of the scenes may cause you discomfort. If you feel like it's your case, please do not proceed with reading the story for your own safety and peace of mind :3  
> Take care :)

**Prologue**  
  
 _Welcome to the Academy of Bravery and Wisdom, of Friendship and Compassion; to the place where faith in humanity and kindness is the only thing that is left. The Academy is famous for its graduates: magicians and warriors, politicians, musicians, great villains and powerful sorcerers, friends for life and foes for all eternity. You can walk and see the Great Hall for yourself, where all the battles to death and oaths to love had taken place (all the stories are available in the last edition of “SSA: The tales of the Walls”). As you enroll into the Academy, you are at the beginning of your own story of greatness, and how it will end depends on you and you alone, for your actions shape your destiny, you are the creator of your own path, and every choice matters. Never forget this, and welcome, welcome to “The Swords and Sorcery Academy”!_  
  
Arthur re-read the brochure for what felt like the hundredth time, sighed and chanced a look at his father. Uther was sitting beside him, his posture stiff, waiting for the meeting to begin.

It was a standard procedure at the SSA: after confirming the will to attend the school, all the parents, with their children in tow, were to be at the Greeting Ceremony at 11 in the morning on the 25th of August to receive the full information about the rules, required possessions and also to better understand the Academy’s agenda. As Uther had said during breakfast, the meeting promised to be very boring and very long, so “Arthur, eat your porridge and don’t talk”.

As Arthur was looking around the enormous bright room they were sitting in, staring at the golden lights and elaborate decorations, the stage lit up and a group of people greeted them. Then one very old and very interesting-looking man began to talk about ranks and duties (“He looks lizard-y. His beard is too short for him to be a magician, but he’s definitely not a knight. Maybe that’s how Headmasters look.” - thought Arthur and decided that there was definitely something lizard-like in all the Headmasters in the world, though he had never ever met one before. After all, who knows, perhaps all Headmasters were made of snakes - he had heard, snakes are very clever creatures), and though Arthur was only 7, he tried to understand every single word, because it was his responsibility to know and obey the rules of the Academy.

By the end of Mr. Kilgarragh’s speech, his thoughts were somewhat mixed inside his head, and he decided to make a list of them as to not forget anything important.  


 _Arthur’s mental list of things about school #1:_  
 _1) we are going to live in the dorms with all the magic kids so we know that they are no different from us except that they have magic;_  
 _2) boys live with boys and girls live with girls. (“Well, at least there will be no girls to spoil all the fun”, thought Arthur. And then, “But what if someone is mean to Morgana?” he frowned. Well, in that case, he guessed, he would do whatever he could to protect her, because she was his responsibility, even though she stole his toys and sneaked into his bed at night and tugged all the blanket to herself)_  
 _3) at the age of 11 we are going to be paired up (a magician - a knight) and put into a separate room, so we will have a stronger bond, because it is needed for future deeds._  
 _4) we can’t choose who we are going to be paired up with, so I need to try to be on good terms with everyone_  
 _5) It is most important to protect my magician because there will be no one else to do so._  
 _6) I will be able to see Dad every second weekend during the first year, every third one during the second, every two months during the third and every three months during the fourth year. When I’m eleven, I will be back home only for the summer holidays and Christmas._  
 _7) If I’m excellent as a knight, I will be paired up with the most powerful magician, so I need to be the best. (That wasn’t what Mr Kilgarragh said exactly, but Arthur concluded it was how things  worked , because it was logical)_  
 _8) If a student is caught on undignified behaviour (note: look up what does “undignified” mean exactly), they and their parents have a talk with the Headmaster about his staying at the school. If a student is caught causing violence or bullying - he is to be expelled immediately._  
 _9) I don’t need to be afraid because “everyone here will do everything they can to protect me” (This, Arthur didn’t really understand. It is, after all, a school, what could be dangerous enough to scare him?)_  
 _10) we are to be back here on the 31st of August (which is in five days), the classes begin on the 1st of September._  
  
With a few final words, thanking everyone for listening, Mr Kilgarragh introduced one of the leading teachers, who looked slightly ominous to Arthur, as the tutor who will answer all questions about domestic matters.

As one of the parents was asking about whether or not the children are allowed to come home if they get ill, a large emerald butterfly flew up in the distance, and Arthur instantly turned to look at what had happened. Across the aisle, in the fifth row from the stage, a woman began to tell off her kid, a tiny dark-haired boy with ridiculous, enormous ears, who looked at his hands guiltily. Suddenly, the room went dead silent, and Arthur heard the woman talking in a hurried whisper:

“Merlin, this is a serious meeting, stop fooling around and pay attention!”

And a mumbled reply in a ringing voice:

“ ‘Mnot fooling around, I just don’t want to be sad.”

Then the boy looked up through his lashes and saw all eyes turned on him, and blushed a deep shade of crimson. The butterfly promptly disappeared, leaving only a sparkling green trail after itself.  
After about five seconds, the tutor continued answering the question, and one by one, people redirected their attention back to the stage, but Arthur was still looking at the boy, waiting for maybe another butterfly or trying to figure out why the boy was sad.

Suddenly, the dark-haired child looked up at him and his eyes widened. Arthur realised he had been frowning, deep in thought, and gave the boy a smile. Tentatively, he returned it, and Arthur, after a quick moment, returned his full attention to what was happening on the stage, adding another point to his _mental list of things about school #1:_

 _11) Talk to the dark-haired boy on the first day of school._  
  
~*~  
Five days were gone in a flash: all the books they had to buy, all the clothes that needed to be packed, last preparations and one brilliant trip to the amusement park filled all those hours Arthur and Morgana got to spend together with their father before parting for two weeks. Arthur talked to his friends about the school none of them were going to attend, and they made oaths to be friends for life, carving their initials on a wooden deck and burying it under the Big Oak.

Morgana stopped sneaking into his bed at night and spent hours in Uther’s room instead, where they read stories aloud, painted pictures, and sang melodic songs.

Arthur preferred to stay out of it, because even a 5 year old knows that’s it is harder to part if you spend a lot of your time with someone, but on the 30th of August, Uther asked him to come to his room, and talked to him a lot about honour and responsibility, about his duties as a student and as a Pendragon, and by the end of it Arthur was equally thrilled - to be trusted with such matters, and afraid - to disappoint his father. Some of it must have been written on his face, because Uther tugged him close and said, petting his hair:

“I know you won’t disappoint me, Arthur. You are a brave boy and you have a big heart. Just don’t let anyone fool you into doing the wrong thing, and when you are not sure what to do - look into your soul and you will find the answer. I know you will make me proud, son.”

At this, Arthur clung to his dad and started silently crying until he fell asleep in Uther’s arms. When the morning came, he decided his quota for tears was up, and he fully prepared himself for going away to school, determined and ready.  


**Chapter 1**

  
They arrived at school in the afternoon, and the hours passed quickly in a flurry of serious voices belonging to the parents, cheerful chatting between the children, and formalities like checking all the documents and luggage.

By the evening tea time, everyone gathered on the lawn, before the grey ancient building the students were now considered to think of as a second home, to say their goodbyes and patiently listen through all the talks from mums and dads telling them to: “Be a good kid, don’t forget to take your vitamins, respect your elders”.

The atmosphere was giddy, and although some sad notes hung in the air, children were too excited to cry or dramatize. After all, one can’t be very upset when one has a whole new world to explore; all the missing and the mourning lays on the shoulders of those who are left behind.

As Uther hugged Morgana tightly (who, by the way, wasn’t crying. She was unusually quiet, but her eyes had stayed dry ever since that morning), Arthur looked around and spotted the dark-haired boy from the meeting, clinging to his mum and shaking a little. They were only about 20 steps away, Arthur could hear the woman chanting gently:

“Merlin, sweetheart, I’ll see you in two weeks, there-there, calm down, be a good boy”, but as she was saying so, her own eyes were too bright and her cheeks wet with tears. Arthur knew he was staring, but he couldn’t help it, and just at this moment he felt a pang of something bitter, sitting deep in his stomach. Perhaps, it was because of the porridge.

“Arthur, son,” Uther called him.

Arthur turned to him and his dad made a gesture for him to come closer. Morgana went away to talk to a girl with pretty curly hair she had probably already made friends with.

Uther levelled himself with his son and produced something from his pocket. Arthur saw it glistening in the evening sun, but couldn’t make out what it was exactly yet. His dad opened his palm and there appeared a ring: wide, made of silver with one gold patch, circling its middle. The ring was too big for Arthur’s fingers, that’s why, he supposed, it was on a chain.

“This,” Uther began, smiling at him, “belonged to your mother. I want you to have it. Someday it will fit your finger, and when the time comes, you will know you are no longer a boy, but a man. I trust you to cherish it and wear it with pride and honour.”

Arthur stared at the ring, and imagined the smiling face of the woman he saw on numerous photos and portraits in their house. This belonged to his mother, and it meant more to him than he could imagine at this second. He touched the jewelry, thinking about his mum’s hands, and looked up at his father. There were tears in Uther’s eyes.

Arthur was so surprised at the sight, he threw his hands around his dad’s neck and whispered: “I promise I’ll make you and mum proud, dad”.

Uther locked the chain around Arthur’s neck and hugged him, then got up, ruffled the boy’s hair and went to his car.

Arthur watched as the vehicle disappeared in the distance, unable to stop touching the ring. He then hid it under his school blazer and went to the dorms to meet his new roommates and get ready for supper.

 

~*~

Reaching the doors of their bedroom (third floor up the stairs to the left, through the common room, through the corridor to the left, past the showers, the big wooden door), he heard voices and laughter. Excited, he put on a smile and pushed the door open and was immediately attacked with a stream of questions from the other boys.

“Oh, hey, another one!”

“Who are you?”

“What’s your name?”

“Are you a cry-baby mummy’s boy like this one here?”

The last question prompted another round of laughter and Arthur felt dumbstruck.

“What?”

The boy with a wide grin and cold eyes pointed at something to his right and said in an obnoxiously loud voice:

“Here, meet Merlin, though we’re not sure why he’s here with us, when he should be with the girls, because he’s _crying like a girly girl_!”

“Well, I’d be crying too if I had such ugly ears!” someone added and the children started laughing again.

Arthur looked where the boy was pointing and saw that dark-haired kid he had decided to talk to. He was quietly unpacking his things, not paying any attention to the teasing, and Arthur would have thought it didn’t even matter to him if it weren’t for the endless tears, streaming down the boy’s face.  
Arthur touched his mother’s ring, sitting safely under his uniform, and said loudly to talk down the noise,

“Well, seems like you only have the guts to attack those who can’t protect themselves. I’d rather be friends with boys who are men enough to show their weakness than with a bunch of cowards!” and with those words he marched towards the dark-haired boy’s bed and held out his hand, “Hello, I’m Arthur Pendragon.”

The boy looked up at him, wide-eyed, and his wheezing ragged breath was the only sound to break the silence that had fallen after Arthur’s statement. Those weren’t really his words: his dad had said this when Arthur had asked if it was bad for boys to cry.

For a moment, the boy just stared at him, too surprised to even cry, but then his lower lip started shaking violently, so he threw the things he was holding onto his bed and ran out of the room.

Children around him started smirking, recovered from their shock, and Arthur felt absolutely stupid. He touched the ring again and couldn’t understand what had he done wrong.  
Someone came up to him and patted him on the shoulder,

“Come on, mate, he’s not worth it. You’re right, we shouldn’t mock him, he’s pathetic enough as it is,” he glanced at his friends to see them nodding and smiling in agreement. “Hey, I’m Kay, you’re Arthur, right?”

The boy held out his hand and Arthur, after some hesitation, shook it.

“That’s Val,” he gestured at the kid with the wide grin and cold eyes, the one that had called Merlin a girl in the first place. “We were about to go to the common room to meet all the other boys from our class. We’re divided into three groups, like there are two more rooms where guys live, so maybe we could exchange this snotty loser for some cool lad.”

There was a round of affirmative exclamations from the group, and they all strode outside, talking loudly about moving “the loser’s things” to the other room if he didn’t come back after supper. They inevitably dragged Arthur with them, but he excused himself to go to the bathroom.

“Alright, we’ll be in the common room, yeah?” said Kay, parting with him.  
  
The bathroom was on the opposite side of the corridor from the showers, and as Arthur quietly entered it, he heard stifled sobs, coming from the stall at the end of the room.

His steps must have not been as silent as he had intended, because as he stepped further into the room, the crying stopped. Arthur stood, listening, and for a moment decided that he was alone in the room, but then he saw a reddish-gold butterfly flying above the closed stall, dropping a trail of blinding sparks of light.

“Merlin?”

No answer. Arthur approached the stall and tried again, speaking gently.

“Merlin. I know you’re there. I can see the butterfly.” He looked up where it was floating in the air, making the shadows on the walls move in a fascinating way. “It’s so beautiful. If you can create them when you’re sad, I wonder what it looks like when you’re happy.”

Still, silence was the only answer he got.

Arthur contemplated going to the common room and leaving the boy here: after all, he couldn’t _make_  Merlin like him. He sighed and leaned his head on the door of the stall.

“Listen, Merlin. I meant what I said. You don’t have to pay attention to what they’re saying. I personally don’t think you’re a girl, because you obviously are a boy, and Dad says it’s low to call someone a girl as if being a girl is bad, so even if they call you a girl, that shouldn’t offend you, because my sister’s a girl, and she’s pretty amazing and if she heard them, she’d turn them all into frogs, because she thinks being a girl is better than being a boy and once she dared me to wear a dress because she said boys are too cowardly and I spent a whole day wearing a dress and she was so proud she said I’d have made a really pretty girl, which she considers to be the best compliment, by the way...”

Arthur went silent when he realised there was a soft laughter on the other side of the door. He frowned a little in confusion, but then heard the lock clicking and stepped back.

The stall opened and he saw Merlin’s face: red-rimmed eyes with tear-flicked lashes, swollen lips, and a runny nose. He looked so thin in his white shirt and black trousers, thinner than any boy of his age should be. Although, his cheeks were round, and his ears stuck out of his mop of ravenous hair. All in all, he looked a bit like a lollipop. With ears.

Arthur smiled at the thought. Merlin sniffed, wiping his nose on the back of his hand, and smiled weakly right back.

“Your sister made you wear a dress?” his tone was light and not in the slightest teasing.

“For a _day_.” Arthur made big eyes. “But...don’t tell anyone, okay?” he added hastily.

“Okay.” Merlin smiled wider, and went to the sink to wash his face.

He then sat on the floor, with his back to the wall, and Arthur joined him without hesitation.

“Why were you crying?” he asked abruptly.

“I miss my mum.” Merlin replied simply, looking at his folded hands.

“But you’ll see her in two weeks, right?”

“Yes, but I’ve never been away from her.” He mumbled, and then added with determination: “I don’t want to be away from her. What if something happens? What if she forgets to lock the door? What if she puts the kettle on and falls asleep? What if there’s thunder and lightning and she’s in the forest?”

Merlin’s voice started to quiver dangerously, and Arthur tentatively put his hand on the boy’s shoulder and said,

“Come on, Merlin, that’s stupid. Why does something bad need to happen? She’s your mum, she’ll be fine.”

“How do you know?” Merlin turned to him angrily. “If you aren’t worried about your mother, well, congratulations, but I actually more care about her than this stupid school with its stupid rules and stupid kids!”

At this, Arthur blinked and lowered his hand to touch the ring on the chain again.

“I’m not worried about my mum, because she’s dead.”

Merlin’s eyes went the size of a platter, and he opened his mouth in shock.

“But my dad is not. And I do worry about him, he’s all alone now, and I think he’ll be very lonely without Morgana and me.”

Arthur tugged at the chain, about to show Merlin the ring, but then thought better of it. It was just his. For now. He’s not the man to wear the ring just yet, he’ll tell Merlin all about it one day. Someday.

“But if I am good, he and mum will be proud of me, and I think it will make him happy. Maybe, when you graduate, you’ll be able to buy your mum a big house and look after her, but you certainly can’t do it if you keep crying and making her worry about you.”

Arthur chanced a glance at Merlin from under his fringe, and saw the boy staring at him with clear blue eyes, still glistening with tears.

“I’m sorry. About your mum.” Merlin told him softly. “I think she’s proud of you already, Arthur, you’re the wisest person I know. Well, after my mum, obviously.”

He then sneaked a hand into the pocket of his trousers and produced a bar of milk chocolate, which he shoved into Arthur’s palm.

“Is this one of your tricks?” laughed Arthur, unwrapping the treat. He broke it into halves and gave one to Merlin, who smiled happily at him and, instantly stuffing his face with it, mumbled around a mouthful:

“Nuop. Wthith ith,” and with that he extended a hand and the air around them filled with glitter and little floating lights, and definitely no butterflies.

 


	2. Chapter 2

After that first day, time impossibly sped up. Everything was so new and thrilling and exciting to the students, and after the initial awkwardness between groups, they started becoming mates after all.

Usually, all the children were united while studying the common subjects, but then there were lessons they had to have separately.

“Magic kids” - which everyone shortened to “magicks” - were at “Our connection to the Energy of the Universe”. “Neats” (the result of a play on the word “knights”) - children who didn’t have magic but excelled in physical matters - studied “How to predict where the blow will land”. Some pupils were complaining about the harshness of the education process, but after two months even the whiniest of kids fell into the routine. Because the Academy’s rules were strict, everyone was getting along fine. Plus, the professors were not only pounding knowledge into their little heads, but also encouraging them to be compassionate and kind.

Although some kids still didn’t like Merlin much, no one dared to be mean, because Arthur was always there to protect him. He was very proud of that and fancied himself Merlin’s mentor.

They spent all the time together, separating only when the non-common classes intervened, so obviously, as Morgana was under Arthur’s wing as well, the three of them quickly became good friends.

One evening, Merlin was sitting on a chair in the Common Room, trying to learn some spells ahead, while Arthur and Morgana sat on the fluffy carpet nearby, distracting him with their chatter. Morgana was wondering aloud whether or not she’d be paired up with Gwen when they were eleven.

“I don’t know, Morrie, they say we can’t choose with whom we will be paired up. It’s kinda why they want us to get along with everybody in the first place,” said Arthur, thoughtfully.

Morgana frowned.

“But what if I don’t like my ‘halfie’? What if it’s, like, Val?” she whined.

At that, Merlin looked up from where he was reading the lines in the book again and again, trying to memorize the pattern of the syllables.

“But you’re a girl,” he said, confused.

“So what?”

“Well, and he’s a boy. How can you...” he trailed off.

Instantly, Arthur turned to him completely and stared.

“Merlin, don’t tell me you think only _same sex_ kids are paired up?” he asked incredulously.

“Um.” Merlin glanced at him, then lowered his eyes and blushed.

 “Merlin! You really don’t know anything, do you?” Morgana exclaimed.

“Well, my mum doesn’t have any magic and didn’t attend the Academy to be a knight, so I didn’t really have anyone to explain this stuff to me!” he retorted defensively.    
“You always forget that not everyone is like your Dad,” he mumbled under his breath.

He was used, by now, to hear them mentioning Uther almost all the time, especially Arthur’s “Dad says”, “Dad once told me”, “I wonder what Dad would’ve said”, though never when it wasn’t just the three of them. Arthur and Morgana weren’t the type of kids to wave their father’s authority around (Unlike Sophia, for example, who used to shout “Daddy would’ve taught you!” or “I’m gonna tell Daddy!” at the every opportunity).

“Well, obviously, because he’s so cool, not everyone could level up to him,” Morgana said, proudly.

“If anyone,” added Arthur, meeting her eyes, and looked at Merlin again. “All right. Come down here, and listen.”

Merlin obediently slid off the chair to sit on the floor beside them, making himself comfortable. This was going to take long.

“It doesn’t really matter what sex you are,” Arthur began, “it only matters if the crystal’s shining with the right colour.”

“The crystal?” Merlin interrupted.

“Keep silent, Merlin, and listen!” Morgana shushed.

“You don’t even know about that one, Merlin, do you?” Arthur sighed. “This is going to take so long. We should have brought tea.”  
  
“The whole point of being paired up is to double the power. While the sorcerer can do magic, it does take time, and as he’s making his abrakadabra come true, he can be, I don’t know, knocked out or something. That’s why he needs a knight to protect him throughout the process. Sometimes, the spells take days to work, and the warlock may be in a trance or weakened, and therefore, in grave danger. The knight makes sure he’s safe all along.

This is a tradition that began centuries ago, and now we, of course, have all this modern stuff, like guns and mobile phones and bulletproof things, but it still stands. Most of the time, since we no longer have kingdoms to rule, halfies collaborate to succeed in something, like business for example, and, like, almost every famous person is either a knight or a sorcerer, even the prime minister. He’s the knight, by the way.”

At this, Arthur raised his chin. Of course, all of the children were taught to treat each other like equals, but some magicks thought the knights were their “shields”, and looked down at them. And vice versa, some neats believed they’d have a “personal witch” to help them become successful, but neither Merlin nor Arthur belonged with those kids.

Merlin thought Arthur was extremely courageous and intelligent and kind, and though sometimes he could be quite snobbish, Merlin still admired him too much to ever think of Arthur as just his “shield”.

Arthur, on his own turn, thought Merlin was someone who needed to be protected rather than used, and was in awe of Merlin being righteous and gentle even with those who didn’t deserve it. Besides, in all honesty -  Arthur was absolutely sure he didn’t need any magical help to succeed in life.  
  
“The pairing up happens over the crystal. It’s sort of, a rock, right? And it’s believed to know the past, the present and the future. Sometimes it’s a very long process, actually, because if you don’t “shine” with someone really bright, then you need to try with everyone else who’s left after the “destined” ones are selected to see with whom the light of the crystal is the strongest.

Once you’re bound to someone, you can’t change it. You must serve each other.”

Merlin’ eyes widened.

“But what if we really don’t get along? What if they want me to do something bad? Something I don’t want to?” he felt resistant even thinking about it.

“Well, I guess you’ll have to break the bond, then,” Arthur sighed.

“But,” Merlin stumbled, “you just said it was impossible.”

“I said, you can’t change who you’re bound to, I didn’t say anything about not being able to break it. Yet. I would have, but you keep interrupting me,” he pouted.

(Arthur looked so cute when he pouted, Merlin once noticed. Like a grumpy puppy Merlin would want to pet.)

“Sorry,” Merlin  shrugged, beaming. He knew Arthur wasn’t really angry at him.

“So, I was saying, you don’t have choosing as an option...”

“I heard, in Hogwarts you can.” interfered Morgana with a dreamy sigh. “Gwen told me that her friend from home told her that you can actually choose which house you go to, but, like, it’s unofficial, but everyone knows about it, ever since Harry Potter.”

Merlin looked at her, completely lost.

“Who?”

Arthur and Morgana synchronously turned to stare at him, their mouths falling open.

“You honestly must be joking! You can’t _not_ know who Harry Potter is!” exclaimed Arthur recovering from shock first.

Merlin only smiled sheepishly.

That resulted in Arthur and (mostly) Morgana telling Merlin all about this Harry Potter person, Lord Voldemort, the war and other Academies that teach magic. When they finished, Merlin’s head was full of new, wonderful (and slightly dizzying) knowledge of the world he was now a part of. The hour hand of the clock on the wall was pointing at 10. It was time for lights off, and Morgana, with one last “Good night!”, went to the girls’ half of the dorms.

Arthur and Merlin, after showering, brushing their teeth and having a “whose toothpaste is tastier” contest (Arthur’s, because it was blueberry while Merlin’s was sort of herbal-minty. They decided to use Arthur’s in the evening and Merlin’s in the morning from now on), were lying in their beds, exchanging words in whisper, until Kay muttered something about kicking them both out if they didn’t shut up, and Arthur promised Merlin to tell the rest of the story the next day.  


~

“So how does one break the bond, exactly?” asked Merlin, buttering up his bagel.

They were sitting in the Dining Hall  - an enormous room with wooden tables scattered everywhere, six people per table. Arthur and Merlin, Morgana, Gwen, and - for some unimaginable reason - Val and Kay, all occupied the same table.

Actually, the boys were supposed to sit with boys, but Arthur insisted on having Morgana sit beside him, so Owain was kind enough as to go and sit with the girls (apparently, it did him good, because now he had at least three girls constantly trailing after him).  Sophia had been eating with them at first, because she had managed to quarrel with all the girls at her table, but was presently sitting with the “clique”, as they called themselves (they had gladly gotten rid of Gwen, who was too gentle and kind for their liking).

Arthur looked up at him from his porridge (“Really, as if there was some change to be expected”) and blinked.

“Bond?”

Merlin snorted.

“Arthur, it’s time you wake up, classes are about to start in an hour. You are so silly in the morning,” he grinned.

Arthur huffed and frowned.

“And you are Mister ‘Just-five-more-minutes-please’ ”, he mumbled.

The girls laughed, Kay smiled, and Valiant only scowled at them. He was usually silent at breakfast, apparently too arrogant to participate in their chitchat.

Merlin tried again.  
“Yesterday, remember? You said you’d tell me all about it later. Now,” he pointed out, biting away, “is later.”

“First: don’t talk with your mouth full, it’s bad manners,” said Arthur disapprovingly, “And second,” he sighed, giving up on trying to shove any more porridge down his throat and instead sipping his tea, “I guess, it’s as good a time as any to teach you fool.”

Merlin grinned around his mouthful, making sure some of the food he was chewing showed, and Arthur scowled, though trying hard not to smile. Merlin was still such a baby. Arthur felt a huge wave of protectiveness towards the boy wash over him. He touched the ring, hanging on a chain under his uniform, and began,

“As I had said, one can break the bond. It happens very seldom, though, because of numerous reasons. The first - and the most obvious one - is that it’s not that easy to do. If you have some misunderstandings with your knight or your warlock, it’s one thing, but to break the bond, to really break it, you have to genuinely hate your halfie. So it’s useful, when, say, it’s your enemy, though hardly anyone can become enemies when they’re destined to help each other out no matter what, but sometimes, yeah, it does happen.”

“Secondly, you need to do all kinds of tedious things, like sit through a bunch of meetings with councils, if you are underage, and besides, you need an assistant to perform the necessary ceremonies. An assistant as in a very powerful sorcerer, who will _agree_ to do that, which is really unlikely. And if it’s not a matter of life and death? I say your chances are close to zero”

“Personally, to me, the most important part of “why not” is...See, the second the bond is broken,  you’re no longer be paired up, and only have like a half of your full power, and, I don’t know, what’s the point? It’s easier to try and come up with a deal than to turn away from your halfie and make the situation a lose-lose,” finished Arthur, yawning. Long monologues in the early morning were tiring.

“So, basically, either you’re a half of a whole or nothing at all?” asked Merlin, blinking, his long eyelashes making him look vulnerable.

(Morgana used to complain about the injustice: “I mean, you’re a boy, you don’t need such pretty eyelashes! It’s totally unfair! Did you...Did you magic them up?”, to which Merlin huffed indignantly and told her that he doesn’t spend his time practising _magicing eyelashes up_ )

“If you have the guts, you can be the whole without a half,” drawled Val, looking bored.

Everyone stared at him. Val had never spoke to them during breakfast, and rarely during the day.

Merlin recovered first.  
“How?”

And then everyone started talking at once.

“Merlin, no.” said Arthur, stoic. “This is the most stupid and _the_  most ridiculous gossip I’ve ever heard.”

“Only an animal would do that!” exclaimed Morgana at the same time.

“But it’s so awful! Why would you even consider this?” squeaked Gwen in high-pitched voice.

“I heard it can kill you,” added Kay.

“How do you know it’s _gossip_ , Pendragon?” interjected Valiant, smirking. Everyone went silent, listening.

“Dad says...”

“Of course, _Daddy says_ ,”  Val interrupted, obnoxiously, and sneered.

“Dad says,” Arthur repeated, pointedly, “that there is no one who’s ever actually done that. It’s just a theory. An ill-advised theory, may I add.”

“You’re so posh sometimes, Arthur,” Merlin giggled, and then asked, glancing hungrily from Val to Arthur and back, “So, what’s this theory about?”

Arthur went silent for a moment, and Val took the opportunity, explaining lazily,

“If you kill “the other half”, you get to have all the power to yourself. All of it,” at this, he leaned towards Merlin and his eyes gleamed greedily. *1 extra*

Merlin just stared back, dumbstruck.

“You see, _Mer_ lin,” growled Valiant, “if you’re a knight, and you kill the sorcerer, you become the sorcerer yourself, but even more powerful, and you gain a second life. If you’re the sorcerer,” he scowled, “then after destroying the other half, you as well gain a second life and become twice as powerful as you were before.”

He grew silent as the rest of the table, and then slammed his palm down on the wooden surface, causing everyone to involuntarily jump. He grinned menacingly.

“I say, if _my_   sorcerer is a useless idiot, and doesn’t want to do as I say, I’ll take the chance,” his disgusting smile grew wider, baring one missing primary tooth.

“So you’re saying you’re willing to _kill_  someone over power?” inquired Arthur coldly, but before Val had the chance to reply, Merlin suddenly burst.

“No! It’s not possible! How can someone who’s not supposed to have magic, suddenly have it? It’s just, it’s just, just... _wrong_ ,” he finished angrily.

“Oh, so you think you’re so _special_ , don’t you, mummy’s boy?” Val threateningly leaned towards him again, his fists clenched.

“Leave him alone, Valiant,” Arthur warned.

Val glanced at Arthur and unwillingly sat back in his chair. Then he wiped his mouth with a sleeve and promptly stood up.

“You all are such losers,” he spat, then looked at Arthur, then at Merlin, and sneered, “Daddy’s boy and Mummy’s baby. I won’t be surprised if the two of you end up paired up. You’ll make _quite a couple_ ,” he laughed meanly and strolled away.

Merlin’s mouth fell open as his and Arthur gazes met, as if this idea just suddenly occurred to him. To be frank, Arthur tried not to think who was going to be his “halfie”, but somewhere deep, deep down he desperately hoped it would either be Merlin or Morgana. He hardly wanted to protect anyone else.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Looking back at the previous year, Arthur couldn’t recall all the details, just the sensations, and sometimes separate moments, those intense ones which stood out from the background of everyday routine: classes, dinners, homework, and all of this mostly with Merlin, with the occasional company of Morgana and Gwen. It’s not that Arthur didn’t get along with everyone else - _everyone_  else, it’s just that he preferred to keep all his eggs in one basket. That way, he could protect them better.

They spent Christmas at their homes, separate from each other, except Arthur and Morgana, but they talked on the phone and via Skype for major periods of time. Merlin didn’t have a webcam, though, so Arthur couldn’t see if there were any butterflies flying around, but Merlin sounded cheerful enough, so there was no need to worry.

When they were back to school, Merlin presented Arthur and Morgana with a homemade apple and cinnamon pie, which he had helped his mum cook. Arthur gave Merlin a red woolen scarf, which was actually Morgana’s work, but his idea, since Merlin was so thin he was practically always freezing. They ate and laughed and talked a bit more.

“Merlin, you should definitely visit us next Christmas,” Morgana proclaimed.

“Yes, or in the summer. The summer would be nice, we could go to our cottage beside the lake,” suggested Arthur.

“Yes, yes, definitely the summer!” nodded Morgana, excitedly. “You’ll love it there!”

And that’s how Merlin spent a month with Arthur’s family. The boys slept in the same room, Morgana in the room next to theirs, and Uther occupied the bedroom downstairs. Thus it was easy for Morgana to sneak into Arthur and Merlin’s room at night to tell stories instead of sleeping, or play games, or - on one memorable occasion - make them wear her dresses. Merlin looked pretty in a dress, Arthur had noticed. Some time after that, Morgana “truth or dare”d them to paint their nails sparkly pink, and to get back at her they told her to hold a millipede, which Merlin had promptly conjured from the air, for 30 seconds. She squealed and scowled, but Morgana was not the type to back away from a challenge. Arthur admired her for that.

Sometimes, Uther’s “halfie” Gaius would visit them and tell them legends, ruffling Merlin’s hair when the boy started asking too many questions. Gaius was going to be a teacher in the Academy this year, and “look out for the kids” in addition. Arthur huffed, but kept his “I’m competent enough to look after them myself” line to himself, because this was his Dad’s sorcerer and also his uncle (“Well, not _technically_ , but he’s been looking after Morrie and me since forever”, he told Merlin once they started talking about the old man), so he wouldn’t want to seem impolite.

All in all, as their car was approaching the school grounds, Arthur concluded that the last year had been good. He was wondering what to expect of the new one.  


~

The second year was very different from their first one, though.

Sure, some things hadn’t changed a bit: Merlin still resembled a lollipop, with his round cheeks and skinny body; Val was the same rude boy as ever; and Arthur’s fingers were still too thin to fit his mother’s ring, so it continued to hang around his neck on a chain.

But the metamorphosis was somewhat too noticeable. Arthur, as usual, made a list.

 _Things That Are Not How They Used To Be And This Is How Exactly:_  
 _1) I’m going to see Dad only once a month now_  
 _2) There are more classes now_  
 _3) Morgana has started hanging out with Gwen and sometimes even other girls more now_  
 _4) I’ve started considering doing the same (“Not that I’ll stop being friends with Merlin, of course not, but Dad says I really need to make an effort to get to know the other kids. Especially those who have magic. There’s only 3 years left, now”)_  
 _5) Merlin has started disappearing to somewhere from time to time, and I can’t always find him now, not like it...used to be._  
  
Arthur went through this mental list once again and sighed. Things are doomed to change, he supposed. This didn’t make it any easier, though, but he decided he needed to be a man about it and accept the inconveniences with dignity.

The boys continued sleeping in the same bedroom as last year, but now he and Merlin didn’t share their thoughts about everything in the universe in whisper: they were both too tired from having extra classes.

They still had breakfast at the same table, though three weeks into the first semester Morgana announced that now she and Gwen would eat with other girls. That brought back Owain and the guy Arthur met only at his “knightly” classes, Lance. While Arthur talked with Kay and Owain about the prospect of landing a mortal blow while having fallen, Lance and Merlin exchanged lines in hushed tones.

Once, when Arthur wondered what they were talking about, Merlin simply answered,

“Just...stuff. Y’know, family and friends and girls.”

Arthur felt like he was missing something, something important. Also, there was this strange feeling in his gut, and suddenly Merlin didn’t look as endearing as he used to. In fact, he was rather irritating.

“And magic” Merlin added as an afterthought.

“You talk with him about magic?” Arthur inquired, surprised. Merlin liked to _do_  magic, and he had gladly told Arthur what it felt like, but he’d never actually explained how magic _works_.

“Yeah, Lance asks all kinds of questions. I think he’s more interested in spells than I am”, he giggled.

“Oh.” said Arthur, and hastily got up, saying he needs to go to the bathroom, when in fact he went to sulk around the Academy.

He didn’t really understand why he was so upset. After all, despite the fact that Merlin was a year younger than him (turned out, Merlin's mum just didn’t know how to stop him from doing things when there was no use or how to control him doing them, and, for some reason, Merlin was accepted in the Academy when he was only six. Well, that explained the cheeks, thought Arthur), he probably didn’t need Arthur’s supervision all of the time, and of course he was allowed to have other friends.

No, decided Arthur, actually, he was not. Merlin was too young and too kind to know who is good for him and who isn’t.

And, besides, he was Arthur’s _responsibility_. Arthur wanted what was best for him. Besides, he was older and smarter, so he got to decide.

That evening, as he returned to the boys’ bedroom, he presented Merlin with this little speech.

The boy went silent and just kept staring at him. Arthur held his gaze and voiced the last one of his decisions:

“Until you’re paired up, I’ll be looking after you, Merlin, ‘cos that’s what friends _do,_ ” he said in a tone that tolerated no objections.

Merlin smiled, then, and nodded.  
"So I need to look after Lance, yeah?” his voice was light and cheerful.

“ _No_.” Arthur declined. “In fact, I’d rather you not talk to Lance this much.”

At this, Merlin frowned.

“But...”

“Merlin, I’m not saying _don’t talk to him at all_ ,” Arthur interrupted, “I’m just saying, he’s not your friend. Not yet, at least. And we don’t know him. I don’t want you to...regret things you might tell him.”

Merlin was still scowling, and Arthur stepped up to him, putting his hands on the boy’s shoulders and squeezing them.

“We, on the other hand, you and I, are friends, Merl. We should look after each other, yeah?” he smiled, trying to catch Merlin’s eyes.

The boy (finally) smiled back and nodded:

“Yeah. Thank you, Arth, you’re the best friend ever!”  
  
  
And if Arthur had a doubt whether or not this was exactly the selfless thing to do, he didn’t really care, because no one had the right to know more about Merlin than him, because no one cared about Merlin as much as he did. (“Well, except Merl’s mum, but she was his _mum_  after all, right?”)  


~

But even after the aforementioned talk, Merlin continued to cast longing glances whenever he saw Lance sitting alone, or laughing with the others, or passing them in the corridors.

Patience is a virtue, but positively not for Arthur. At last, it got so annying, he suggested they “learn what this Lance person is made of”, and Merlin nodded eagerly. Merlin obviously hoped Lance would “pass the test”, whatever it was that Arthur had in mind.

Turned out, Arthur’s “genius plan” consisted of Merlin telling Lance (“But this is secret, Lance, okay, top secret, or I might get into trouble. Don’t tell a soul, yeah?”) that he can _fly_  because his great great great grandfather was a dragon.

“Arthur, I don’t think Lance is...stupid,” Merlin muttered.

“He’s stupid enough to tell, you’ll see,” Arthur replied, confidently, “and then he’s going to get laughed at.”

“And what if they don’t? What if...everyone believes him? What if...everyone thinks I’m a freak?” Merlin’s eyes were restless, he was casting quick glances all around the room they were sitting in (a quiet empty corner in the Academy they made their secret hiding place).

“You don’t trust him already?” smirked Arthur, but then looked at the boy, properly looked.

Merlin seemed nervous and unsure and very, very miserable. Arthur took him by the shoulders and met his eyes.

“We _can_  not do this, you know. But it just proves it then: you don’t trust him, and you can’t have friends you don’t trust.”

They stared at each other for a moment, and then Merlin nodded decisively, smiled with what looked like bravado, and said:

“Let’s do this.”  


 

~

  
And they did. And Lance didn’t pass. He told everyone.

At first the children surrounded Merlin as he entered the room, asking him to “show”, and Arthur saw the betrayed look in Merlin’s eyes as the boy stared at Lance, who, in his own turn, stood dumbstruck. Arthur intervened and explained the whole joke.

The kids first started laughing at Lance, and then agreed to give “Bad Luck”, as Arthur named him (“Du Lac? I’d rather think you’re a “Bad Luck” to anyone who’d think to be mates with you!”) the silent treatment. They even started to be friendlier with Merlin, because he was “not the enemy”. 

All in all, everything turned out brilliant.  
  
Except, Arthur couldn’t forget the look in Merlin’s eyes, the betrayed one. He couldn’t stand it, and he even sympathized with Lance a bit, because Arthur would never bear if that look of betrayal turned on him.

But, he concluded, if Bad Luck was stupid enough to try and steal his best friend, he got what he had coming. Arthur was only protecting what was his.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

After clearing out the situation with “Bad Luck” (“Arthur, stop calling him that, he’s _Du Lac_ ”), Arthur felt as if he righted the wrong and spent the following weeks in high spirits.

He messed around with Merlin, as usual, but after some time started noticing that he spends way too much time with him.

Again.

It’s not as if he didn’t want to - of course he did - it’s just that he had responsibilities, other than Merlin.

He had to be a good student, to be the best knight, to get along with _everyone_  (“It’s very important, Arthur, that you have people to like you,” his Dad had said before last summer had ended. “You cannot predict who is going to be your sorcerer, and it is of the utmost importance to be prepared to have this bond for _life_. You need to spend less time with Merlin and more time with the other kids. Alright?” Uther had ruffled his hair and smiled), to make his parents proud.

So if he was drifting away from Merlin, just a little, it surely wasn’t a big deal. Surely, Merlin understood everything himself, seeing as he’d started spending more time in the library, or reading in the common room, or listening, unusually quiet, to what Arthur had to say when they met.

Arthur decided that the sudden change in his friend’s behaviour was the cause of him growing up, maturing. Arthur smiled to himself at the thought. He’s a good influence on Merlin after all.

This Christmas they, once again, spent apart, except Merlin talked to them on the phone only twice, and said that his computer had broken, thus there was no chance they could skype.

So when Arthur enthusiastically greeted him at breakfast (Merlin had returned to the dorms late the previous night, something about car troubles and snowy roads) at the start of new term, he wasn’t really disturbed by Merlin’s monosyllabic responses in a soft voice, gathering that the time they spent not talking was having its effect, but sure that they’d be back on the rails in no time.

Lance still sat with them at the table, but Merlin hadn’t spoke a word with him since “the test”.

But just as Arthur was telling Kay about their Christmas trip to Disneyland, he heard Merlin’s voice, quiet but clear. He glanced at him and frowned. Lance was leaning over to Merlin, telling him something with a solemn face.

“Hey, Bad Luck!” Arthur called, mockingly. “Aren’t you supposed to keep your mouth shut?”

Everyone at their table started laughing at the double-meaning of the joke.

Arthur glanced at Merlin to see his reaction.

Unexpected, however, came the glare from Merlin. Meanwhile, Lance stopped talking. He looked at Arthur, at Merlin, then got up and walked out of the Hall, without saying a word. Arthur chuckled at his back, his classmates joining in, but Merlin didn’t even crack a smile. He was staring before in front of him, his hands clenched, and seemed to tune out the conversation around him completely.  


Afterwards, while they were walking towards their first class, Biology (actually, it was more about how to pick the non-poisonous herbs and where to push to stop the bleeding, since it was Gaius's lesson, and he was more of a physician then a Biology professor), Arthur swung his right arm around Merlin’s shoulders and asked,

“So, tell me, _Mer_ lin, why on Earth would you talk to Bad Luck? I mean, I thought we agreed he wasn’t your friend.”

Merlin curled his cold fingers around Arthur’s wrist and slowly put his hand away. Then he stopped and turned to face him. Arthur stared at him, surprised, and it looked like Merlin was gathering his courage to say something, but then Arthur couldn’t be sure. Merlin was so hard to read these days.

“Actually, Arthur,” he began, quietly, but firmly, “My mum said that you’re not supposed to _test_  you friends. And also that it was a really bad thing to do. And that it was unfair, and I should apologize to Lance.”

He stopped to take a breath, and Arthur just stood there, dumbstruck.

“And I think she’s right, Arthur. I think you just wanted to have me all to yourself.”

“Of course I wanted to!” interrupted Arthur, sharply “You’re my friend!”

“You don’t treat me like a friend,” Merlin eyed him. “More like a thing you own. But I’m not. And I can have other friends, too.”

Arthur suddenly felt cross. It was so unfair! He didn’t treat Merlin like a thing, it’s just that Merlin was _his_ friend, _his_  responsibility, and he didn’t trust anyone else when it came to taking care of the boy.

“Fine, _fine_ , Merlin!” he shouted. “You want to be friends with Bad Luck? Whatever, okay, but don’t come crying to me when he betrays you. Actually, you can be whoever you want with whomever you want, I don’t care.”

His face felt too hot and he was shaking a little. This was all so wrong. He was so mad at Merlin, he just wanted to get back at him, to make Merlin feel equally bad. So he spat out,

“You know, Merl, maybe you don’t want to be friends with _me_ , after all. Maybe you’d rather listen to your _Mum_. Maybe...” he stopped. _“You really are a mummy’s boy”_  left unsaid, but clearly meant. It was hanging there, in the air between them, ugly and poisonous.

Merlin’s eyes widened. The next second they were shining too bright for the dim light of the hallway. He let out a gasp and then abruptly turned and ran away.

Arthur didn’t follow him this time.

 


	5. Chapter 5

Arthur wondered when did this all happen. When had their friendship become _this_?

Merlin and Lance had swapped places with Percy and Elyan (Gwen’s brother, as it turned out), and were now sitting at the table in the farthest corner of the Dining Hall, along with Edwin, Gilly, Will and Mordred.

Val was joyous that there were no more “magicks” at their table, so he was able to tell awful stories about sorcerers being executed, tortured and burnt at the stake. God knows where he got all that information from in the first place, but he seemed to enjoy those tales a tad bit too much. His previously missing primary tooth was now replaced by an ugly crooked molar one, and with the addition of the forming big nose on his still very childish face, he resembled an evil witch from old horror films.

“So, Arthur, not so keen to be around that whiny git anymore, eh?” smirked Val.

Arthur gritted his teeth, but replied nonetheless:

“I don’t appreciate you talking about him like that.”

“Oh, come on, Arth, we both know you’re too good for him. You were literally his “knight in shining armour”” Val sniggered, “and what did he give you in exchange? He just flushed you down the toilet, mate. No respect at all.”

Val was clearly enjoying this way too much.

“Shut up, Val. It’s none of your business. He just has other friends, he can do that.”

“Oh, don’t be so posh! And I doubt you believe your own words. Had he a chance, he’d stick his magic wand into your back, and maybe he will, just you wait.”

Arthur stared at him, speechless with anger.

“You know what, Arth,” Val said, standing up, “when you realize just how dumb your little friend is, come talk to me. You’re always welcome to join “the winners” team.”

With this and a wink, Val strolled towards the exit of the Dining Hall. Arthur looked down at his plate, then seeked out Merlin’s table, where the boy was laughing at something Lance’d said, and sighed. Valiant was merely a spiteful moron. But maybe...Maybe there was some truth in his words after all.  


~

The educational routine was the same. They studied separately unless the subjects were common, and didn’t have a lot of time to talk outside of the Dining Hall. And considering the fact that Arthur and Merlin were now sitting far from each other, the boys spent less and less time together. Usually, when Arthur was in the common room, Merlin appeared to be in the library, studying, or out in the yard, practising new spells, or even sleeping already. They still brushed their teeth together in the morning, exchanging a few lines, still sleepy, and, all in all, that was it.

While Merlin started to form a circle of people around himself, Arthur still wasn’t spending much time with the other “neats”. He preferred to study, or talk to Morgana (“Honestly, Arthur, you can’t hang out with me _all the time_ , you’re shying the girls away!”), or do physical exercises.

As spring rolled around, with its clean air of fresh starts and positive developments, he decided to change this ridiculous situation he found himself in with Merlin. Or, rather, make it all go like before. He sought Merlin out in the corridors (he was talking to one of the knights, Gwaine) and asked him if he’d like to hang out on the practice field later.

“Why on the practice field?” Merlin raised his brows in confusion.

“I learned some new movements, I want you to see them, they’re great!” Arthur replied, excited.

“Now, now, Arth, movements, you say?” interjected Gwaine, throwing his arm around Merlin’s shoulder. “Interesting. Care if I join you? We could duel!” Gwaine’s eyes lit up.

Arthur frowned and glanced at him. No, no, he definitely could _not_  join them, it was time just for him and Merlin.

“Oh, yeah, that’d be great!” exclaimed Merlin, meanwhile, “I’ve never seen a duel before! Sure, okay, meet you in an hour, Arthur, yeah?” he smiled.

There was little Arthur could do, except nodding, slightly smiling in response, and turning to go away. He wasn’t sure why, but the feeling of something really bad was sitting deep in his stomach. Maybe, it was all that awful porridge he was starting to feel sick of.  
  
~

Afterwards, Arthur’d think he should have known.

Afterwards, picking at the scab of an almost healed wound, he’d consider himself an idiot for being so blind and trustful.

He should have known, really, when Merlin started hanging out with _those_  kids instead of him; when he stopped telling Arthur his every thought; when he cheered for Gwaine during their duel more than for Arthur;

_when he ran up to Gwaine to see if he was hurt instead of looking into Arthur’s bleeding arm when the duel turned nasty; and when he started shouting at Arthur for being careless, and when he angrily strolled away; helping Gwaine stand up and leading him away to the nurse; leaving Arthur alone on the field, with his arm still bleeding._

And still, it felt like a bucket of icy water has been poured over Arthur’s head. Suddenly, everything has changed. Drastically so.

At once, Merlin wasn’t his responsibility anymore, wasn’t his business. Wasn’t his friend.

Because _friends_  don’t do that. They don’t leave you for someone else, and _so what_  that Arthur laid a blow with his wooden blade so hard, he managed to pierce Gwaine’s leg, causing the blood to ooze from the boy’s thigh. _So what_  if Arthur was so angry with Merlin fussing over Gwaine instead of him, that he called him a useless traitor.

 _So what_  if Arthur  said he was mistaken to think Merlin deserved his attention in the first place.

At the end of the day, it was simple: _friends just don’t do that_. That said, it was clear: they weren’t friends anymore.  


~  
  
Only after two years had passed and there was only a scar on his arm instead of the wound, and he had only talked to Merlin when mocking him or calling him “Big Ears” to see the hurt flush creep up Merlin’s neck; only when he had spent said years in the company of his good friends, being the popular boy, the golden boy, what with his excellent grades, perfect fighting technique and a steady trail of girls’ (and boys') love letters; two years of his Dad being proud of him; two years of gradually realizing his parents are the only people who truly deserved his attention (Morgana made it quite clear she doesn’t need his full attendance in her life, being quite content with Christmas dinners and a couple of words in the Hall in between lessons); only after two insipid years did he realize that it would have been better if he hadn’t relaxed about the whole situation.

Turns out, he was _Merlin’s_ knight.

“No,” he gasped, when they stood, opposing each other on the sides of the crystal, the ball glowing so bright that all the people in the room had to shield their eyes from the white shine.

“No,” he repeated, when told the match was made.

“No way,” he spit out in Mr Kilgarragh's office, where they were summoned to discuss the matters. *2 extra*

“Mr Pendragon,” the headmaster said pointedly, “I believe you realize there is nothing to be done. You have been paired up. You had been prepared beforehand, for no one can know their destiny, and no one is able to escape it. I am positive, whatever quarrels there are between you and Mr Emrys, you will work it out as to not put yourself through unnecessary difficulties. Since you will be sharing a room, you - both of you, -” Mr Kilgarragh glanced at Merlin, who was sitting quietly in his chair, staring at the floor, “better take the situation under control, since I am not going to tolerate any indignant behaviour in this school. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir,” nodded Arthur, firmly.  


“NO!” he shouted, slamming the door of their newly occupied room.

Merlin jumped at the noise, but didn’t turn to look at him, continuing to place his things into the drawers of the bedside table instead.

“If you think for _one second_  that I’m okay with being paired up with you - you of all people - the useless idiot whose magic is only good for making stupid insects out of thin air -”

“You think I want to be your sorcerer?!” exclaimed Merlin, angrily, turning to glare at him. “I’d rather have Percy or even Kay as my knight, despite the fact that they’re both thick as trees, than _you_!” he scowled.

“Is that so?” Arthur sniggered. “And what about _my persona_  does not suit your high standards, _Mer_ lin?”

Merlin watched him for a moment, before his eyes went cold with contempt:

“Because you’d rather let me die than risk your _royal_  arse, if that’s the case.”

He turned back to sorting his clothes out, while Arthur went absolutely _mad_  with fury.

“Are you calling me a coward, Merlin? Are you?!” he shouted, shockingly loud, for a second sure that everyone in the castle was able to hear him.

Merlin didn’t answer, methodically folding his jumpers and putting them in the left drawer of his comod.

“I asked you a question.” Arthur repeated, quietly, his tone filled with rage.

“Merlin.”

Silence.

“ _Merlin._ ”

Just as Merlin closed the drawer to start arranging his trousers in a different one, Arthur launched forward, grabbed him by the back of his shirt, and yanked.

Merlin fell on his back in the middle of the room, narrowly avoiding hitting his head on the sharp edge of one of the opposite-standing beds.

As the realization of what had almost happened dawned, they were left staring at each other: Merlin, looking up with wide blue eyes, a mix of shock and disbelief clear on his face; Arthur, glancing from the wooden carcass to Merlin’s temple, his body shaking.

“I’m...I didn’t mean to,” he stuttered, guiltily. “You know I didn’t, I...”

He trailed off. Merlin was unmoving, gazing at him, and Arthur noticed for the first time, that his cheeks were no longer round, his face thinner and longer and too pale, his cheekbones sharp and his eyes bigger, those famous eyelashes casting deep shadows, causing him to look somewhat fragile. Too easy to break.

Arthur felt ashamed. Friends or not, physical abuse was a low behaviour where he was concerned. He sighed and ran a hand through his strands.

“I’m...sorry, Merlin. I’m sorry.”

Arthur closed his eyes. He felt so confused. Anger was still bubbling up inside him, but then again - it wasn’t as if it had been Merlin’s fault they were now halfies. Heck. It still sounded so awful, so incongruous.

Arthur heard Merlin getting up with a sigh.

“It’s okay. I know it was accidental.”

There was silence then, and Arthur opened his eyes to find Merlin opposite him, looking determined.

“Look, Arthur. I’m not happy about this whole thing too, okay? As I said, I’d rather have been paired up with someone else, but since it’s already done and it’s you and there’s -” he took a breath, “- there’s nothing we can do to change that, let’s just...You know, try to live with it?”

Merlin quietened, averting his eyes. God, this was awkward. They’d been so close once and now trying to at least be civil felt like a weird dance around a black hole.

But then Arthur found a solution.

“Let’s make a deal.” he blurted out.

Merlin looked up at him, curious.

“A deal?”

“Yes, you know, a pact, an agreement,” Arthur continued impatiently, “like, you do your half, I do mine, and everyone’s happy, yeah?”

“Like a truce agreement?” the corners of Merlin’s mouth tilted up.

“Yeah,” Arthur smiled back a little in response, glad the uncomfortable moment was over.  


 _Arthur and Merlin’s Truce Agreement In Order To Co-Exist Without Strangling Each Other Before Graduation:_  
 _1) Do not touch each other’s stuff_  
 _2) Do not come to the “wrong” (Merlin’s) side of the room_  
 _3) Do not talk to each other unless absolutely necessary_  
 _4) Mind your own business._    


And if it felt a bit disappointing to realize that what Arthur had once been looking forward to turned into a drastically different setting, one that required rules in order to be amicable; and the fact that after graduation they will probably never see each other again, never mind be mates like Uther and Gaius, was making Arthur’s chest tight with some heavy feeling, unfamiliar, impossible to classify - well, no one had to know about it, and no one was the wiser.  
  
~  
  
And they stayed like this.

Merlin had his friends and spent the majority of his time out, meeting Arthur only in their joint classes ( _“Merlin, could you, please, shut up and do as you’re told” - “I am terribly sorry, Your Highness, but if you try to tell me what to do again, I’ll burn your eyebrows while you’re sleeping”_ ).

Morgana has been paired up with Lance, and Gwen, despite being Gilli’s “knight”, was always trailing after the two of them. Arthur never had time to talk to Morgana these days - she was too busy being a part of the clique, and whilst all the girls either envied her and wanted to become friends or disliked her, whispering gossip behind Morgana’s back, she was one of the most popular kids around the academy. Even the “Queen Bee” Morgause (sorceress, 2 years older, astonishing and terrifying at the same time) liked her enough to proclaim Morgana as her “twin-sister”, thus they were always together. That made what little time Arthur could have spent alone with his sister disappear completely.

He had his friends, though. Val (who turned out to be not that bad, despite his homicidal jokes about “magicks”), Kay, Owain, Percy and Elyan listened to his every word, because he was the best knight, the best student, the most handsome one within them.

He was the Golden Boy.

Teachers praised him, coach said his fighting technique was flawless, his Dad smiled and proudly ruffled his hair every time they met, so all in all, Arthur’s life was good. He honestly enjoyed it.

No more distractions in the form of little lollypop Merlin with his butterflies, who needed protection, or tiny Morrie, who was big-eyed and too scared to sleep alone in the room, full of unknown girls.

Now Arthur could concentrate on his goal - to become what his parents wanted him to be: The Perfect Son.

 


	6. Chapter 6

By the time Arthur was 17, he and Merlin were civil enough to completely ignore each other’s presence. If butterflies started flying around, Arthur would go wander around the Academy, checking out the Honors Wall or messing around with his mates. And if, when Merlin entered the room, he barely avoided being hit by a flying pillow, or saw Arthur doing drills outside late in the evening, he just made sure to sit in the library or talk to Gilli under the staircase, until the storm had passed.

But those occasions were rare: usually Merlin and Arthur ended up in the room approximately at 8 in the evening, acknowledging each other’s presence by not playing the music on his iPod aloud (Merlin) or not trying to attract attention as usual (Arthur).

That’s why, when Merlin entered the room at half past nine (him and Gilli were trying out this new spell from the book that they hadn’t yet covered in class, just for kicks), he was genuinely surprised to see that the room was empty.

He shrugged and went to put his iPod on its deck, and the sounds of “Florence and the Machine” filled the space. He laid on the bed, and after staring on the ceiling for a couple of minutes, started playing with the colour of it so it would match the beat of the song. Soon there were lines and neon starts, a rush of fireworks and space illusions all over the surfaces of the room.

Merlin laughed. He loved the wonders he could do with his magic. He loved _having_  magic.

And now, when he was perfectly content, his magic, always so keen to show everyone what he was feeling _when it wasn’t really needed_  (like with the butterflies. It wasn’t him who liked them so much, it was his magic trying to cheer him up, but trying to explain this to a non-magical person was too hard), went wild with joy, creating fascinating patterns on the wall, spiralling emerald stems with buds of colourful flowers down Arthur’s bedposts (yes, Arthur’s bed had _bedposts_. Merlin didn’t claim that bed because _really, bedposts_. Besides, Merlin was afraid he would hit one of them every time he gets up at night to go to the loo), making the floor a liquid space the colour of magenta, creating tiny fireflies that were dancing in the air.

But just as the third chorus started with _No light, no light in your bright blue eyes_ , the beautiful water that was once the floor became a flame, burning the flowers on the bedposts until they were _bleeding_ , the ruby essence flowing freely, the ceiling went darkish-blue, and suddenly, out of nowhere, Merlin vividly saw a corridor - it was like a mirage, there but not really, and someone coming from the right, or was it just someone turning the corner?

The music was blabbing, too loud, until it became just a petrifying noise, loud and dangerous, like the sound of the wind and the sea and one of a broken record mixed all in one. It was getting louder and louder until Merlin, paralyzed with shock and watching the ceiling in terror, saw Arthur’s pale face, just for a second - his wide with horror eyes, messy hair and opened in a weak “no” mouth - and then, at once, everything went dead silent.

Their room returned to its usual state - no flowers, no fire, no starry skies, and his playlist went on with _Cosmic Love_.

Merlin released the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, and the last drops of shock flew out with it.

The next second, his magic went bonkers.

 

~

Arthur was going to his room after his usual evening practise.

It was too late for the other guys to be around - they preferred to hang out in the common room, wrapped up in the warmth of the fire in the fireplace, studying or laughing at each other’s stories and jokes, while outside October suggested bone-deep cold and freezing wind, but Arthur knew that his sword skills wouldn’t come out of nowhere, and despite people saying so, his technique wasn’t perfect enough. Not yet. So he studied right after the classes, before their training session, then went to dinner, and spent the evening back at the field, practicing movements and tricks he saw in the books.

After all, having Merlin as his sorcerer meant only one thing: Arthur was completely alone and fully responsible if a battle was to occur.

Arthur was walking down the corridor that stretched towards the Hall from where numerous doors led to the thousands of rooms, occupied by “halfies”. The students were now living on a lower floor, and whilst they still had the Common Room, it led to two different towers: in one of them all the rooms were occupied by same-sex halfies, the other one filled with double-quarters, one room for two girls, one for two boys. Some students were lucky, thought Arthur, to live in a single room if they didn’t have a roommate.

Morgana lived with Gwen whilst Lance was sharing a room with Gilli. They had their own little “common room”, but Gilli usually hung out with Merlin (probably), meanwhile the “common room” was occupied by Morgana’s minions. _All the time_.

The corridor was barely lit, since the skies outside were already black with night, and what was left of the strategically placed _genuine_  fire torches ( _“Really, couldn’t they afford electricity here?”_ ) merely gave enough light to see the shadows and silhouettes around oneself.

Just as Arthur was passing the alcove where there were no _strategically placed_  fire torches, he stopped. Morgana appeared on the doorstep of the Common Room. But he didn’t stop because he saw his sister - obviously, no, - he faltered in his steps because she was _sneaking out. Clearly_  so. She softly closed the door, checking that no one had seen her, then, after glancing around, pushed up the hood of her sweater (Morgana in a _sweater_? Wasn’t it a crime against fashion, something like crocs, whatever they were?) and quietly hurried away.

Of course, Arthur wasn’t stupid or blind. Just as Merlin, just as Gwen, just as all of them - she wasn’t a kid anymore.

She was a girl, with all the girly forms, and as much as Arthur hated admitting it, she had pretty _girly_  forms for her age. They’d all hit puberty, and when Arthur was admiring himself in the mirror - broad shoulders, nice abs, strong thighs, interesting jawline, he knew they were definitely _not_  kids now.

Some of them had girlfriends or boyfriends or both (supposedly not at the same time, but then Gwaine was the exception), and it was allowed in the Academy. What was not allowed were _extremely intimate relationships_  between students - also known as sex.

And though everyone knew there were hidden corners and secret meetings deep into the night, Arthur wasn’t going to let Morgana have one, his business or not. She might not be his _responsibility_  now and was allowed to “Make my own choices, Arthur!”, but she was his sister and he was her _brother_ , the closest thing to their Dad she had whilst in the Academy, and damn it, Arthur would very much like to know which one of the losers in this school had brains small enough to attempt to shag his little sister.

He scowled at the mere thought of it, and followed Morgana's steps, his hand on the hilt of his sword. They weren’t allowed to carry their swords out of practice, of course, but Arthur had had a talk with his coach, and Mr Kilgharrah permitted Arthur to practice in his spare time with a safer version - wooden blade, covered with an aluminium carcass - and thus he had it to himself, under the agreement that he wouldn’t use it other than for training.

Arthur wasn’t going to attack whoever it was that Morgana was meeting this late in the evening with his sword, of course, but it would do a great deal to scare them away from doing something like _seducing his little sister_  ever again, that’s for sure.

He smirked. Morgana was going to be so pissed off. Well, it wasn’t his fault she couldn’t stick to the rules on her own.

Even as he was thinking this, they started walking down the stairs, to the part of the castle Arthur’d never been to.

Actually, no one ever went there, because, well, it wasn’t forbidden, and that was already enough of a reason to keep students away from the certainly boring place. And besides, everyone knew there was nothing exciting about the dungeons: its walls covered in moss and filthy unknown substances, a foul stale smell prickling nostrils and a great chance of slipping on the sleazy floor, falling face-first onto cold moist stones, put off any potential visitors. What was once the place that held murderers and tortured traitors, had now become a pattern of corridors, filled with water pipes and numerous garbage, like old bed carasses or broken wardrobes.

Suddenly, Morgana turned left, and when Arthur reached that point, there appeared to be no door, no entrance, no nothing. “What the hell,” he muttered to himself, feeling the smooth wall with his hand.

He explored that surface again and again, but with no result. Irritated, he punched the stone with his boot, and heard a creaking sound, before the ground under him literally opened and he fell into the darkness.

He landed on a cold firm floor, hurting his thigh in the process.

“Shit!” Arthur grunted.

Complete darkness was surrounding him, the hatch in what appeared to be the ceiling or the floor, depending on how to look at it, promptly closed.

Bummer.

_Bummer._

Here he was, Arthur Pendragon, 17 years old, trying to protect his naïve sister’s honour, with a wooden sword and a wounded thigh, somewhere _under the dungeons_ , in a space he had no idea about.

Neither did he know whether there was an exit, or if he was going to rot in here forever, unable to tell a soul where to look. Everyone would be searching for him elsewhere, clueless that he’s right - _right there_ , under the castle. Well, Merlin is going to be _delighted_ , left to rule the room alone, and Morgana is going to be able to have her wicked ways with whomever she wants, and his Dad...His Dad is going to have a heart attack.

“Right.” said Arthur into nothing. This was his first adventure, then.

He has to get out, no matter how, just _has to_. And he will. He doesn’t need any sorcerer to help him; he’ll prove it, and maybe will earn the right to get another one instead of useless Merlin, the idiot who everyone will blame for what had happened to Arthur.

After lifting his spirits with these thoughts, Arthur tried to stand up. It was painful, but manageable.

“Probably just a scratch”, he concluded, feeling the cut.

As he dragged his hand across the ripped patch of his “fighting” trousers, his fingers touched something in his pocket.

“Aha!” Arthur exclaimed in delight. “Thank God for the technology era,” he muttered, fishing out his phone. “And of course, no signal here. Well, let’s see it, then,” Arthur said out loud to pierce the depressing silence, turning on the light torch app.

From what he could make out, he was in a long corridor, that ended with a high unbreachable wall right behind him, so the cue was to only move forward and hope it wasn’t some kind of a Faun’s Labyrinth.

“Positive thoughts, Arthur,” he reminded himself, shuddering.

Following the #1 Rule in a situation called “How-In-Hell-Did-I-End-Up-Here”, he tried to check the surroundings. It wasn’t much help, though, since the light of his phone wasn’t strong enough and Arthur could clearly only see the mere inches before him, the distance lost in the shadows.

Suddenly, Arthur heard a sound coming from…somewhere, he couldn’t tell exactly, like someone was wearing roller skates and slowly moving, though in what direction it was impossible to tell.

“Who’s there?” Arthur shouted. He took the phone in his left hand and gripped the sword in the right one.

Whoever it was, Arthur wasn’t one to go down without a fight.

The rolling noise seemed to stop, and Arthur, gathering all the courage of a seventeen-year-old kid alone deep in the darkness, under the ground with no exit in sight, carefully moved forward. His steps were quiet, but nonetheless too audible in the dead silence of the corridor.

“I’m warning you, I’ve been trained to kill since birth! Show yourself!”

Well, that, perhaps, wasn’t the best choice of words. Firstly he tells this stranger he’s going to kill him, and then asks them to step out of the safety of the darkness. Arthur mentally scowled at himself.

“I promise I won’t harm you if you mean no evil.”

He was getting farther into the corridor, which appeared to have no side doors, no signs on the walls, just rough stones, sitting so close to each other there wasn’t even a breath of air.

Air.

What if this was some kind of an underground cell, where prisoners were left to choke on the lack of oxygen? Arthur thought he saw some bones on his left now. Bile rose in his throat.

“Positive thoughts, Arthur” he repeated to himself, shakily.

Wherever the rolling noise was coming from, it certainly wasn’t near Arthur, so he cautiously continued going forth, the sword prepared to land blows.

He moved further into the darkness, and all of a sudden he clearly saw a...creature. It would have been human, if not for the lower part of its body. What seemed to be a rotten vat, held on surprisingly smooth big wheels, replaced the creature’s thighs and legs.

Arthur looked at the upper body and felt absolutely cold with terror. It appeared to be a girl: short blond hair, curling into careless waves, thin arms, and prominent collarbones. Her head was bent, so he couldn’t see the face of the creature. It stood unmoving, silent.

“Hello?” he tried.

The answer didn’t come.

“Err,” Arthur cleared his throat, “Excuse me, do you know where the exit is? Or just any way out of here? I was following my sister and fell into this hole, I’m a student, could you help me...please?”

He tried for a conversational tone, but it came out more than a little bit strangled.

After a moment, the creature turned away and started rolling away from him.

“Maybe it’s showing the way!” thought Arthur, hopeful.

He wasn’t dumb, of course, this very well could be a trap and he was going right into it, but it’s not like he had any other choice, apart from staying where he was and waiting for something to happen or someone to find him. Which he certainly wasn’t going to do, because, again, he wasn’t _dumb_.

After a while, they turned a corner, and Arthur found himself standing in a large room.

A very dark large room.

He quickly stepped in, turning his back to the wall. That way, a)the corridor was to his right, so he could make a run and b)no one could come from behind. As he was backing closer to the wall, wanting to feel the solid pressure on his back - a mockery of safety - he tripped and, losing his balance, fell against the stones with a too-loud thump. The light from his phone wavered and fell on...bones.

There was a pile of bones beneath him.

Arthur gasped and hastily turned the torch towards the creature again. It was now standing before him, but - thank God - not above. And now, he could see its face. He wish he didn’t.

“No”, he breathed out in shock. No, no, this wasn’t happening.

It was.

The monster was staring at Arthur with black holes instead of eyes, liquid - it could have been blood if not for the too thick texture and deep dark colour of it- running down its cheeks. Just one of them - the other was deformed and...seemingly bitten off. The mouth was no more than a rotten absence of flesh, green-ish disgusting goo freely flowing its way down the creature’s chin.

Arthur swallowed. And then wished he hadn’t, because he felt like throwing up. He tried to stand up, but he was taking no chances averting his gaze off the monster, and with a sharp pain he also remembered that his thigh was cut and oozing with blood. And the bones kept rolling from under him, suggesting no safe leverage.

The creature took this moment to start rolling towards him - he saw the sharp claws of its crooked fingers - and desperately pushed himself up, just for a second, to land a cutting blow onto the fleshy part of its body, and then fell back down, mortified. He had little chance of getting out of this, he realized, transfixed.

“Astosgwelwchynddanawreichbodmewntrafferth”*3 extra* grunted the monster, its voice screechy and wet, with disgusting fluid leaking out of its mouth.

He saw drops of the same dark goo as was streaming from Its eyes appear on the cut he managed to make: diagonally on its belly, from ribs to stomach.

“You shouldn’t have attacked me,” he managed, adjusting his unfortunate pose for the next round.

The creature stared at him, and then looked somewhere to its left, where Arthur spotted the movement, so he spread the light, taking the focus off the Vat-Girl but keeping an eye on her, trying to figure out what that movement was.

“So a knight is here, I see,” sneered _someone_. The voice was haunting - like a broken record with the sound of wind and wild sea waves combined, screeching, the words barely intelligible.

The _someone_  stepped closer, into the light, and Arthur thought his blood was absolutely frozen by this point.

He knew monsters and nightmare creatures existed. He knew, he saw them in books and read about them and had been listening to Morgana’s scary stories since he was wee. The difference was: whilst he could turn the page or crawl under the blanket, hugging Morgana close to him, confident that no monsters could have passed his Dad back then, now he was staring right at them, and the only alternative to a safety blanket here was _the pile of human bones beneath him_.

“The knight,” giggled the monster. It was not stepping closer to him, but moving rapidly and frantically in a grotesque fashion, talking too fast, as if it was going through two different dialogs at the same time, the lines mixing into one,

“Where’s your _I’m right here see_ ”  
“Sorcerer, _With my knight_ ”  
“Knight, _As always_ ”  
“Are you _As always have been_ ”  
“Here _As always will be_ ”  
“All alone? _Protecting he_ r”

“And you. You seem to be so despicable your magician wouldn’t even want to bother helping you?” it laughed aloud - an ugly sound, echoing off the walls.

“Well then,” the creature sneered again, menacingly, “Seeming as you are not good enough, you are NO GOOD AT ALL!” it shouted hysterically, lurching at him.

Arthur jerked and threw his sword forward. It all happened too fast. Arthur, somehow, managed to defy the attack and, seeing the monster back off, examining its gruesome hand, he took a good look.

Arthur wasn’t sure if it was male or female (“Do monsters have a gender, actually?” - “Right, Arthur, no better time for philosophy, NO TIME LIKE THE PRESENT, EH?”). He would laugh at himself if he wasn’t so close to throwing up or passing out or both.

The creature had black dirty hair, so long it reached its knees. His body was human, but the skin was startlingly blue, almost translucent. The burned robe was hanging off the monster’s frame like a bean bag. Arthur couldn’t see the monster’s face - only one black patch of what appeared to be violently charred coal-black skin where the creature’s chin was, the other parts covered with a thick wall of hair, falling from its head.

But the most hideous part of that _thing_  was its hands. Too long, with large palms and enormous, sharp as razors, claws. Like the Vat-Girl had, only much, much worse. Or better. Depends on how to look at it. 

Razor Claws was now nursing its wound where Arthur had hit... _it_...in the forearm, droplets of black goo (“Maybe they share the same blood type,” he thought irrationally) rolling down and marking the floor.

“Using the fighting skills, are we?” murmured the creature, still touching the wound.

“You are not so powerful _Not powerful enough_ ”  
“Alone _Not like me_ ”  
“Just a knight _Me and my halfie, together_ ”  
“A useless sole knight,” the creature finally lifted his head, smirking at him, baring shark-like teeth.

Arthur shuddered.

And then Razor Claws lifted its hand, murmuring words, and Arthur felt his sword become heavier with every second, until he couldn’t point with it anymore, its tip touching the ground, and immediately _becoming_  the ground, turning into stone rapidly. The boy snached back his hand, and that’s when the rolling noise started on his left: the Vat-Girl moving towards him, her hands stretched out, her sorceress laughing loudly while the light of her spell shone brighter.

That was it. Arthur was trapped, no plan, no weapon, with his head spinning, his stomach turning and his leg bleeding. He was going to die, and for what? For stopping his little sister from sleeping with some faceless guy. It was _the_  most ridiculous situation he could even imagine.

But right now it didn’t matter.

Right now he was going to die.

 


	7. Chapter 7

Arthur opened his eyes to a ceiling.

Right.

So this is what there is after death. Interesting.  


But then he remembered.

   _“Arthur, please, open your eyes, Arthur! We need to get out of here! Oh, oh please, don’t be dead. Arthur!”; Merlin’s blurry face; their struggling escape out of the dungeons - or whatever the hell that was; Merlin’s magic flashing around to blow up the walls into pieces; a small part of them scraping Arthur’s cheek; a burning pain in his leg as he tried to walk, half of his weight already supported by Merlin; the warmth of Merlin’s side against him; “Oh god he’s skinny”; “Shut up, Arthur”; “I wasn’t aware I was talking”; “Shut up!”; murmured spells; the wild eyes of the nurse; the crispy smell of white sheets that Merlin carefully lowered him onto; said nurse, hurrying about; “Merlin”; “Merlin”;_

_“ **Merlin** ” --_

_“I’m here. Sleep.”_   


“Oh, Arthur, you’re awake, love,” smiled the nurse.

He didn’t know her name.

Arthur blinked. “Where ...”

“Merlin had classes.” she interrupted, still smiling at him. “They only let him skip one day of school, but the boy is too distressed, and Mr Kilgharrah decided it was best if he spent some time away from you.”

“I was here the whole _day_?” Arthur croaked. His throat was awfully dry.

“More like a couple. Here, sweetheart, have some water. You needed rest, and your leg was in a pretty bad state, but now it’s all good and you’re free to go as soon as I check it one last time.”

As Arthur drank the water, the nurse threw away the covers and unbandaged his thigh. The wound had healed, and a red raw scar was sitting instead on the pale skin. He drained the glass, and stared at his leg, wide-eyed.

The woman caught his look, and gave him another small smile in reassurance.

“Some magic and herbs are always the best medicine,” she patted his shin. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Yes,” Arthur nodded.

“Well then! Just take it easy for a couple of days, and you’ll be fine. You’re a strong boy. A brave boy,” she looked at him tenderly. “But don’t do this again, will you? And,” her gaze turned serious, “you’re very lucky to have Merlin as your sorcerer. Cherish that, Arthur, that kind of a bond is hard to come upon.”

He nodded again, numbly, but didn’t really understand what she meant. Everyone in this school has a bond, that’s what it’s all about!

“What is...I’m sorry, what is your name?” he mumbled.

“Alice,” the nurse replied, standing up.  “Take your time, Arthur, and when you’re ready, I believe your friends will be happy to see you return. I heard your fellow knights miss your presence very much.”

Alice winked at him and went to throw away the bandages.

As much as Arthur was feeling dizzy, he decided it was best to go to his room and think about what had happened. Only, now he would stick to the well-known routes around the Academy.  


~  
  
Arthur was lying on his bed, going through the notes of the classes he had missed while being in the hospital wing, when the door flew open and Merlin burst into the room, his breathing harsh and shallow, wide-eyed and generally looking like he’d just ran a marathon.

Arthur promptly sat up.

There was a moment of silence and the boys stared at each other, not really knowing what to say. They had spent so many years not talking or throwing insults at one another, that now this new “i-saved-your-life -- i know and am being grateful” dynamic was quite confusing.

At last, Merlin exhaled, “Arthur”, and sounded way too relieved for someone who supposedly didn’t care a bit whether Arthur was alive and well.

“Merlin,” curtly replied Arthur, nodding for some reason.

There was a bit more of silent staring.

Then Merlin quickly walked up to him, and awkwardly, but decidedly locked his arms around Arthur, clawing at his shirt and breathing loudly into his shoulder.

Arthur hesitated for a moment, and then tentatively brought his hands to Merlin’s back, patting slightly. Okay, this was positively weird.

For one, Arthur was still sitting on his bed, so Merlin had to bend in order to hug him. For two, Arthur wanted to tug Merlin down onto his lap, or draw back a little, so he could hide his face in Merlin’s belly, feeling warm and safe.

For three, where the hell did “for two” come from?

At last, Merlin drew back, but then - as instantly as he had approached in the first place - went to his bed and lied down. Without taking off his uniform, he tugged out the blanket, covering himself with it completely, and, apparently, went to sleep.

Arthur was still a bit shocked about everything that had happened, including this unordinary behavior. But then he shook himself, and got up to go through his evening routine (nevermind the fact that it wasn’t even past seven o’clock).

After returning from the bathroom, Arthur changed into his pyjamas, turned off the lights and crawled into bed.

The familiar smell of their room was comforting, the silence was peaceful and Arthur felt safe. It was all over. Now everything was going to be alright.

The worst was all behind, Arthur thought, falling asleep.

And that’s when Merlin’s nightmares started.  


Arthur woke up in the middle of the night.

At first he couldn’t understand what it was that disturbed his sleep, but then he heard someone calling his name. After the sleeping haze cleared up a little, he realized, that the “someone” was Merlin, and he was moaning, sobbing, chanting, but not exactly “calling” his name.

Arthur sat up and attempted to make out what was happening in the darkness.  
“Merlin?” he inquired, carefully.

The boy just moaned louder, and as Arthur’s eyes adjusted to the lack of light, he became aware that Merlin was definitely deeply asleep. It was a restless sleep, though: the boy was turning in his bed, the covers kicked off, and the litany of “Arthur, Arthur, Arthur” was filled with such desperation that Arthur stood up and walked over to Merlin’s bed.

“Merlin,” he tried again.

The moonlight from the window fell on Merlin, and he was so pale, his face damp with sweat and tears, his moving lips dry and chapped.

Not completely realizing what he was doing, Arthur slid into the bed behind Merlin, hugging him across the chest, drew up the covers and forced the boy to lay still, whispering in his ear:

“Merlin, Merlin. I’m here. It’s alright. I’m here.”

Merlin went silent, and then with the final, relieved “Arthur” grew still, his breath calming down.

After a couple of minutes, his body relaxed, and as he turned, Arthur dried Merlin’s wet face with the sleeve of his nightshirt. After that, he drew Merlin closer, sighed, and fell asleep again.  


The autumn morning sky was dark and gloomy. Sun rays couldn’t pierce the clouds, making the atmosphere seem heavy and miserable.

Merlin’s alarm clock went off, and Arthur opened his eyes to see the boy lying on his stomach, face half-hidden under the blanket. Squinting unhappily, Merlin started pawing the nightstand with his right hand in an attempt to switch the damned thing off, at the same time bringing his left hand to rub at his eyes to pry them open.

His left hand, which rested on Arthur’s hip under the cozy warmth of the blanket.

But perhaps Merlin was way too sleepy, because when he finally opened his eyes, turning to find the sordid clock, and then rolled back, finding Arthur’s eyes looking at him curiously - only then it seemed to dawn on him.

He wasn’t alone in his bed. 

Merlin promptly levelled himself up on his elbow and frowned:

“What the hell?!”

Arthur sighed. This was going to be tough.

“You had a nightmare, Merlin. You kept shouting and crying and I didn’t know what to do. But apparently, it was about me, since you were calling my name. I decided it was best if I calmed you down.” he explained, sitting up.

“So, what, you decided that sneaking into my _bed_  while I was _asleep_  was the best way to calm me down?!” Merlin yelped, his voice going up a pitch.

“Oh, relax, would you? I was half-asleep, and besides, it worked,” Arthur couldn’t help but feel smug. Just a little.

He got up and went to grab a towel and his bathroom kit.

Merlin huffed and shook his head, obviously preparing a speech about how it was “just like Arthur” to do something like that, “something prat-ish”, or the sort, but by the time he got himself together, Arthur was already out of the door and heading to the showers.

Merlin showed up when Arthur was brushing his teeth (toothpaste: mint, no herby taste) after taking a long hot shower to wake up completely, and instantly walked up to the sinks, taking out his own toothbrush and paste (ugh, herbal. “Some people just never change, do they, _Mer_ lin?”), and staring at Arthur in the mirror, while brushing his teeth so violently Arthur thought he was going to pierce through his cheek during the process.

After what felt like 30 seconds, Merlin rinsed his mouth and stared at Arthur in the mirror some more.

“I wasn’t crying,” he finally spoke, cleaning his toothbrush under the stream.

Arthur spat out the foam and washed his mouth. He wiped off the water from his chin with the back of his hand and turned off the tap.

“You were.”

He faced Merlin, and the boy’s face was tense, his eyes narrowed. Merlin was silent for a moment, but then grabbed his things and with a:

“Fine then! Hope you have a good laugh with your friends about it at the breakfast table,” tried to go past Arthur to the door.

Arthur caught him by the shoulder.

“I’m not laughing at you,” he said quietly, looking Merlin straight in the eyes.

Merlin seemed surprised. He didn’t move, but he didn’t say anything either, his eyes searching Arthur’s face for the signs of dishonesty.

“Merlin,” insisted Arthur, trying to get him to understand, “I get it, it was a nightmare. And,” he took a breath, “It’s all my fault. I’m sorry.” Arthur paused and lowered his eyes, but then forced himself to meet Merlin’s again as he added,

“And thank you. You know, for saving my life.”

Merlin just continued staring at him blankly, silent. Arthur stepped back and ran a hand through his blond strands.

“I’m still not sure just how exactly you managed to do what you did,” he chuckled humorlessly, shaking his head. “I thought I was going to die.”

“You were.” replied Merlin, softly. He closed his eyes and continued after a moment, still barely audible, as if not realizing he was actually talking.

“You were lying on the floor, all bloody and pale, and those -” he shuddered, “- those _creatures_  standing right beside you. I thought,” Merlin choked, “I thought you were already dead.”

He opened his eyes, and met Arthur’s gaze.

This was hard. This made everything look so much more real.

“But you were there.” Arthur stated. “How, in fact, did _that_  happen?”

Merlin smiled weakly, shrugging:

“My magic went nuts, and it sort of found you. It all happened so fast.”

“Wow,” Arthur exhaled. He ran a hand through his hair again.

“Yeah, wow.” echoed Merlin.

“I guess we really have the bond, then,” Arthur said in awed disbelief.

“Yeah, I guess so.” admitted Merlin in return.

 

~

They spent the day glancing awkwardly at each other whenever they met, and making dull small talk outside the Headmaster’s office where they were summoned to in the afternoon.

Mr Kilgarragh wanted to talk with them about the accident, and the discussion revealed the awful truth that someone in the Academy had been practising dark magic. The Headmaster explained, that those kinds of magical powers are able to wake all sorts of monsters, giving them something to feed on, and that discovery presented the issue of figuring out which students were the cause.

After dinner, there was a big meeting in the Hall, where Mr Kilgarragh addressed all the students and announced that from this day on, an investigation was going to take place until the sorcerers who had caused the disturbance were found.

The news divided all pupils into two groups: those who started being weary around all who had magic - some knights were suspicious of their own “halfies”, and those who grew overprotective of the ones with supernatural powers.

Arthur, obviously, was in the second group. His friends, however, weren’t going to stop making rude jokes about “magicks”, on the contrary - they enjoyed it even more now that they had a reason.

So when Val, as usual, asked Merlin if he was “bending over for the devil to give him some power to get rid of those ridiculous ears”, Arthur instantly told him to shut the fuck up. This led to a poorly handled argument within the group, resulting in Arthur punching Valiant in the chin. Which was why he wasn’t really welcome to their company anymore, and some of the “popular” kids started gossiping about him “losing it after the incident”.

Consequently, when Arthur burst into his and Merlin’s room right after supper (and a talk with Mr Kilgarragh), he was too angry and irritated to calmly react to the picture that unfolded before him.

Presently, Merlin was sitting on his bed, doing something magical over a piece of luminous crystal, his magic shining _everywhere_  like a messy thing, filling the space.

“What the hell are you doing?” Arthur demanded.

“ ‘M trying to figure out who’s playing evil,”  muttered Merlin, staring intently into the stone, not even glancing in Arthur’s direction.

“So you’re playing _the hero_  now, aren’t you?” sneered Arthur, crossing his arms. He felt like a drawn bow, waiting to snap.

Merlin looked up at him then, taken aback.

 _Wide-eyed_.

Arthur hated it. How Merlin always looked so innocent, so vulnerable, when he _wasn’t_. He was the _big damn_  bloody  _hero_ , saving people left and right, and having the courage to play the little lost puppy. Merlin was _so_  --

“-- full of shit!” Arthur stopped and took a breath. His chest was rising and falling rapidly, all the emotions preventing him from filling his lungs with much needed oxygen.

“What’s gotten into you?” Merlin wondered, raising a brow.

Arthur went speechless with rage. What’s gotten into _him_? Three days ago he was _this_ close to dying on the floor of some filthy impossible place, actually _under_  the dungeons, surrounded by fucking magical gooey monsters, and now Merlin is, what, trying to bring those things _here_?

“Arthur, calm down,” Merlin gestured at the crystal and all the magic went back into him. “I’m not summoning anyone here. I’m just trying to see if I can figure out the source of the dark magic. It’s harmless. Nothing bad is going to happen. Arthur, come on. You’re safe, it’s over.”

“Well, you're the one to talk, _nightmare boy_.”

Merlin went completely still. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying, I need _rest_. Meaning _sleep_. Meaning I don’t want to wake up _again_  to you whining and chanting my name like a prayer, okay? If you’re so powerful, make yourself useful and magic yourself a gag for the night, would you?” Arthur spat out.

He wasn’t going to be mean, he wasn’t. But it was so hard to stop when everything was just so _wrong_.

Merlin’s eyes went cold, his posture stiff.

“I’m sorry I’m disturbing your beauty sleep with my _nightmares, Your Highness_ ,” he gritted out.

Arthur snorted arrogantly,

“Apology accepted.” and with that went to get ready for the lights out.

As he was crawling into his bed, he heard Merlin’s voice from the other side of the room,

“Next time I see you in my bed, I’m turning you into a frog. You’ve been warned.”

Arthur sniggered and turned off the lights.  


~

Sleep wasn’t coming, though.

Arthur lay on his back, staring at the canopy of his four-poster bed, replaying the dialogue they had had earlier in his mind.

The shame and the guilt were overwhelming, making him restless. He regretted every single word he had said to Merlin that evening.

He was wrong.

He was indignant.

It was low of him.

Arthur sighed and listened to Merlin’s even breathing. Apparently, he wasn’t upset about what Arthur had said.

“He was _expecting_  it”, Arthur suddenly realized, thinking back on Merlin’s peculiar behavior that morning. This thought made his chest go tight with something he couldn’t quite name.

He didn’t know how long he’d been lying there when he heard it.

First, Merlin’s breathing grew too loud in the quiet of the room, the pattern erratic.

Then, the movements: the boy was kicking the bed again.

Then muttering.

And then came the sobs.

Arthur listened for just a second, before sighing and getting up.

He promptly crossed the three-step distance between his and Merlin’s bed, and, after a brisk “I really don’t want to be a frog”, fixed the blanket and snuck into bed beside Merlin, hugging him and whispering “I’m here, Merlin, it’s okay” in his ear until the boy relaxed.

Arthur hid his face in the crook of Merlin’s neck, closed his eyes and instantly fell asleep.  


~  
  
It was a Saturday, the day off from classes.

Thus no alarm clock.

Thus Arthur opened his eyes to find Merlin looking down at him from above, frowning.

“What colour frog do you want to be?” Merlin wondered innocently.

“What?” Arthur croaked, his throat dry after sleeping.

Merlin chuckled. “Right, so you won’t have a choice. Let’s make you a green one, then. With enormous yellow blisters. And _dots,_ ” his eyes gleamed maniacally.

Merlin grinned threateningly, and Arthur instantly woke up.

Some would say that Merlin wouldn’t do it, but oh he would. Arthur still shivered remembering that one time he made a really cruel joke about Merlin’s ears, and the damn sorcerer narrowed his eyes, which shone gold for a moment. Arthur then had a mild nervous breakdown, discovering he had _donkey_  ears, refusing to get out of his room for two days and missing classes, until Mr Kilgarragh intervened and made Merlin lift the spell. Despite trying to hide the humiliating accident, Arthur then discovered that the whole Academy knew about it. He was just glad no one had put his photo up on Facebook - Merlin had it on his phone though, Arthur was sure.

“Merlin -- “

“I warned you, Arthur,”  Merlin interrupted, “and here you are. So prepare to lead a nice long life as a frog. Well, if you stay out of the Biology classes, that is,” he chuckled.

Merlin lifted his hand, but Arthur quickly snatched it, closing his fingers on Merlin’s palm. It was soft and warm.

“Merlin, you had a nightmare again,” Arthur said quietly.

“Oh, so, what, I interrupted your beauty sleep?” retorted Merlin. He didn’t wrench his hand away, though.

“I wasn’t sleeping,” Arthur muttered.

He paused, feeling cozy lying under the warm blankets on a fluffy pillow that smelled like Merlin. It was nice...

Then Arthur caught Merlin’s waiting stare and remembered to continue, “I was awake, because I couldn’t sleep. Because... “

He trailed off. This was uneasy to say, lying in Merlin’s bed and clutching at his hand - it made the whole “I was an arse and I’m sorry” speech so much more painful.

“Guilty conscience?” smirked Merlin.

“Yes,” Arthur replied seriously, looking down at their hands. “And I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. That...What I have. Said. It was low of me.”

However, Merlin stayed silent, and when Arthur looked up to see his reaction, he saw startlingly blue, wide eyes staring back at him.

What, now Merlin was _always_  surprised to hear Arthur say nice things to him? This was quite irritating. But then again: perhaps, he did have the right after all those years of merciless teasing.

At last, Merlin sighed and lay down, freeing his hand from Arthur’s hold.

They lay side by side, silent. Finally, just as Arthur decided to stay where he was after contemplating going to his own bed to get some more sleep on Saturday morning, Merlin asked, quietly:

“Why are you doing this?”

With a little regret about having to pull himself out of the sleeping haze, Arthur replied, just as softly,

“It’s my fault you’re having those nightmares.”

“So what, this is just because _you_  are feeling guilty?” bitterness creeped into Merlin’s tone, and “Of course, it’s all about _you_ , as always” was left unsaid, but obvious.

“No, Merlin. I’m feeling grateful.” Arthur responded, his tone hurt. He turned onto his side to watch Merlin’s profile as he spoke. “You saved my life. I don’t know how to behave, so I’m behaving -- “

“Like an arse,” interjected Merlin, smiling slightly.

“-- the only way I know,”  finished Arthur, pointedly.

“You mean, like an arse,” Merlin’s smile was full and wide now, and as he glanced at Arthur, his eyes sparkled with mischief.

Arthur chuckled, “Maybe.”

And after a pause, murmured, “What are they about, anyway?”

Merlin looked at him, confused.

“Your nightmares,” Arthur clarified, “What do you see?”

Merlin looked back up at the ceiling, sighing.

He was silent for a minute or two, and Arthur thought he wasn’t going to answer at all. But then Merlin spoke.

He was talking slowly, quietly, breaking off after each sentence.

“You. Obviously. They’re all about you. And they’re not the same. I mean, they’re not so different either. It’s like...I’m trying to help you, but I’m always late. Or I can’t do anything. Like, my magic isn’t working. I’m trying to help you, but I can’t do a thing. And then...” Merlin’s hand crept down and found Arthur’s again, and he gripped it slightly.

“Then I see it clearly: you all bloody and pale, your lips blue, and there is _nothing_  I can do,” he finished in whisper.

Arthur was silent beside him.

“There are several of them. During one night,” Merlin turned his head and met Arthur’s gaze. “I see you dead for, like, twelve times every night." A barely-audible sob fell from Merlin’s lips and he closed his eyes.

His long dark eyelashes were trembling against the pale skin. Arthur suddenly remembered all the butterflies Merlin used to conjure when he was sad.

“Oh, Merlin,” he exhaled.

And then proceeded to hug Merlin close, holding him, and whispered: “I’m here, I’m fine”, while Merlin, shaking violently, clutched him back with despair.

No matter how many quarrels had happened between them, no matter how much they’d been fighting over the years, and how many hurtful words they’d thrown at each other - that invisible bond, that childhood affection was still sitting in them, never forgotten, because nothing is ever really forgotten. So even if, theoretically, they were supposed to feel strange, lying in one bed, hugging -  they did not. Arthur was feeling protective of Merlin, and Merlin just wanted Arthur to be okay.

It was so natural, so _normal_ , that they, even for a second, did not consider this to be something _different_.

 


	8. Chapter 8

Merlin’s nightmares have been going on for almost two months now.

In the daytime, Arthur and some of his friends (those who weren’t on Valiant’s side, that is) were hanging out with Merlin and his “gang”. Arthur even started warming up to Lance, finding that he wasn’t such a bad chap after all. Besides, Lance was soon discovered to have an _outstanding_  crush on Gwen, who was Morgana’s best friend, who was Arthur’s sister, so inevitably Arthur found himself trying to get as much information out of Morgana as he could on the subject of Gwen’s feelings towards Lancelot.

That was the first time he noticed: something was weird about his little sister. She’d become very distant with him, and if he didn’t know any better, he’d say she was avoiding him. Which was completely ludicrous, because this was _Morrie_. 

In between training sessions, attempting to be a matchmaker and studying, Arthur joined Merlin in his determination to find the source of the dark magic. They hadn’t had any luck yet, though. All the futile sneaking around, hushed talks and casual “keeping an eye on them” was sort of fun - they had their own personal secret, which was very exciting, - but they weren’t getting any results.

In the daytime, life went on. It was just a couple of weeks after Christmas, and it was the year for Arthur to celebrate his eighteenth birthday and for Merlin to turn seventeen. The year they both were going to graduate, despite Merlin being younger. It was only a twelve-months difference, but Arthur always insisted that between the two of them, he was the smartest one, because he was “the elder”. It didn’t really help his case, according to Merlin, because that just made him “even more hopeless: such a big boy with such a big head, and still a dolt” (“Shut up, Merlin! You can’t talk to your elders like that”). During the day, they still bickered and teased each other, laughing and competing at their favourite “Who’s the wittiest?” game.

But then there were the nights.

The nights, when Merlin would wake up screaming, and, shaking, sneak into Arthur’s bed, the boy hugging him close unconsciously.

The nights, where Arthur woke up to the sobs, and he would sleepily pat over to Merlin’s bed, lying beside him, holding him fast, whispering soothing words until Merlin calmed down, and fell back asleep again.

The nights, when they both couldn’t sleep, and lay in the same bed, talking about everything and nothing. From time to time, Merlin would ask Arthur about his plans for life, and Arthur would reply that he hasn’t decided yet, and that whatever it was, Arthur was definitely bringing Merlin with him.

“But what if I want to do something different from you? Don’t I get to ‘choose my own path’?”

“Stop quoting Mr. Kilgharrah in bed, it’s unnerving. And no, _Mer_ lin, I’m the elder one, so you have to listen to me. And obey.”

Merlin would huff and Arthur would tell him to shut up. Merlin would puff, and Arthur would put his arms around the boy and tell him to sleep. And Merlin would.

And of course, there were the mornings.

After the first couple of weeks, Arthur got used to waking up next to a warm bony body, got used to seeing Merlin’s sleep-ruffled hair and half-lidded eyes first thing after opening his own.

Those three times when Arthur woke up in his bed, alone, feeling the crisp smell of his bed pillow instead of inhaling the comforting smell of Merlin’s hair even before being half-awake, he had instantly panicked and flung his eyes open only to see Merlin getting ready for his separate classes, or coming back from the showers, or - seriously? - curling green stables with bud’s of roses on them around the posts of Arthur’s bed.

All three times, Arthur got angry and told Merlin off for being so irresponsible. “You should have woken me up”, he ranted irritably, and after the third occasion, Merlin had finally learned his lesson. Thus sometimes Arthur woke up to a soft “Arthur, it’s morning” and a gentle hand on his shoulder. He liked those the best. He’d mumble “Ahgmnhga”, and then hug Merlin close to him, not letting go, so Merlin would laugh and tell him to “get off, you clingy...blond...lazy...koala!”.

“If you’re going to compare me to animals, Merlin, you can start with a lion,” Arthur would mumble in the skin of Merlin’s neck, “because I’m brave, gorgeous and have shiny hair.”

“Yeah, and you’re also the Ultimate King of us, ordinary animals,” Merlin teased, pretending to be annoyed with Arthur’s secure hold.

“Of course I am”, Arthur would nuzzle into Merlin’s hair, tickling the boy’s ear with his hot breath, and Merlin would squint and, giggling, try to pull away, saying, “Kindly allow me to proceed to my classes, _Your Majesty_ , unless you want me to get detention”.

Arthur would grunt unhappily, but release him, and Merlin would then laugh some more. Merlin’s laugh in the morning was nice.

No one knew about those nights and those mornings but them. It was just theirs, and neither  wanted to share this fragile new relationship with the world. After all, they were “halfies”, they were _supposed_  to be closer with each other than with anyone else in the universe, magical or not.

Arthur wasn’t sure, though, just how close they were supposed to be, and he spent quite some time thinking about it, because he was seventeen and not stupid. Sophie, the girl he’d been dating on and off since he was fifteen, started nagging him, saying he spends too much time with Merlin (“Maybe he’s a better girlfriend than me, seeing as how you’re suddenly all over him”), and she’d been pouting a great deal lately.

Arthur genuinely felt very confused.

But then, he decided, Merlin was okay with this whole “sleeping together” thing, and maybe Arthur was looking into this too much. After all, it was just a matter of time before Merlin’s nightmares would go away and the boys’d go back to normal.  


~

Arthur woke up because someone was calling his name.

More than quarter-asleep, he threw away the covers and started walking towards Merlin’s bed when something stopped him.

It was the _nature_  of Merlin’s sounds.

There were less than five steps between the opposite-standing beds, so Arthur closed the little distance carefully and, shaking himself awake, bent down to look into Merlin’s face, trying to figure out what was different about this time.

Merlin was moaning Arthur’s name, as usual. And shaking, as usual. And turning, as usual. And his mouth was open and his lips were slightly chapped. But something has definitely changed.

For example, how Merlin’s breath hitched at “ _Ar_ thur”; how his moans were not those of distress, but more of need, of _want;_  how his cheeks weren’t pale, but instead flushed crimson in the winter moonlight; how he wasn’t _turning_  in his bed, not really. More like... _rutting his hips into the mattress_?...

Arthur stood, shocked into full awakening, watching Merlin’s deliberate movements and not knowing what to do.

Usually, he would simply crawl in, hide his face in Merlin’s neck or hair, and immediately fall sound asleep. Now, however, no such thing was possible.

Arthur couldn't decide what to do: on one hand, he should probably go back to his bed, lie down, try to go back to sleep (ignoring Merlin’s moans) and never, ever mention this. On the other hand...

On the other hand, Arthur felt himself going red in the face and a little bit too warm somewhere around his fingertips, and --

“Ah, _Ar_ thur!”

“Damn it, Merlin”, thought Arthur, hurriedly lying down and tugging on the covers Merlin had kicked off. He half-covered Merlin with his body, hugged him close, as usual, and whispered hotly into his ear,

“I’m here. _Mer_ lin.”

For some reason, at the sound of his voice, Merlin went absolutely wild.

His moans grew louder, his body _hothothot_  under Arthur’s gentle hand on the boy’s chest, and even though Merlin was wearing his pyjamas, Arthur could feel the heat seeping through. He thought...Just, maybe, Merlin had a fever or something, so it seemed like a good idea to put something cool on his belly. They say it helps with the fever.

Arthur carefully slipped his right hand down Merlin’s body, sneaking it under his shirt and placing his palm over Merlin’s fire-hot stomach.

Merlin pressed himself fully to Arthur’s front, and Arthur screwed his eyes shut, gritting his teeth to prevent the sounds from escaping.

Oddly enough, until this very moment, he hadn’t even realized he had grown hard sometime in the past thirty seconds, watching Merlin _moaning_  his name.

Meanwhile, Merlin thrust his hips forward and then back again, and Arthur’s breath hitched. He bit his lip, trying to stay silent, but it felt so, _so_  good when Merlin moved. Just once more, oh, just...

Arthur splayed his hand on Merlin’s belly to encourage him a little, and _yesss_  Merlin pushed his hips up _again_.

Arthur’s mind seems to have jumped ship, because his body begins moving on its own accord. His fingers curl into Merlin’s burning skin, scraping a little, his thighs quiver as he lifts himself up a bit to give Merlin more latitude.

The tragic part, though, is his voice. Arthur’s unable to control it, because his brain’s melted into a puddle of boiling lava, and when a hoarse, involuntary “ _Merlin_ ” breaks free, Arthur freezes, horrified.

Oh God, what if Merlin wakes up now? How would Arthur explain this...whole... --

“Arthur, Arthur, fuck, _Arthur_ , aah --”

\-- and that was _Merlin_.

Arthur daringly felt his hand a little lower.

Well, _fuck_.

Merlin is hard too.

Very, ah, hard.

In point of fact, the front of his pyjama bottoms is already a bit soaked. Arthur palmed the bulge in Merlin’s pants, too far gone to fully comprehend what he was doing.

However, when Merlin’s hand covers his own, he goes cold with apprehension. Apparently, Arthur had a reason to be a tiny bit (a lot) scared, because then Merlin opens his big mouth (“Oh no, don’t think about Merlin’s mouth, it’s a whole new level of...Okay, too late, already thinking about it. Oh fuck, that mouth...”)

“ _Please_ ,” half-moan, half-whisper falls from Merlin’s parted lips, and he’s scraping the back of Arthur’s hand, urging it to move.

Arthur stays completely still.

“Please,” Merlin is downright whining now, thrusting back and forth in order to get more friction.

And Arthur can only resist for so long.

He doesn’t even care if Merlin wakes up anymore, but carefully all the same, he creeps his hand into Merlin’s pants, taking his leaking cock in hand and pumping once.

He wasn’t ready for such a reaction. Merlin bucked, violently, and Arthur shifted them a bit, lying more on his back and tugging Merlin partly on top of him, holding Merlin’s shirt high with his left hand as to not spoil it, and slowly pumping Merlin’s cock with his right one.

God, Merlin was loud.

He kept _moaning_ , biting his lips raw and moving his hips in a relentless rhythm, all the while saying Arthur’s name in such an obscene manner, Arthur thought he was going to have one hell of a flashback every time Merlin addressed him from now on.

At some point, Merlin turned his head and now his ragged breath was burning Arthur’s neck. And the absolute worst part of it was that Merlin would add something to his name, changing it just so. Either a moan,

“MmmArthur,” biting his lip mercilessly, so it becomes deliciously plump and kissable.

Or a cry,

“Ah-Arthur!” his breath coming out harsh and fast, his mouth hanging open, tongue darting out to wet dry lips only to worry them with teeth again.

Or mewl,

“Fuck, oh, _fuck_ , Arthur, _yes, faster_ ,” starting to move frantically, pushing forward into Arthur’s grip.  

Arthur’s hand speeds up, working Merlin’s cock in earnest. Arthur’s own hips stutter, and he wants to bite down on Merlin’s neck to stifle the feverish “ _fuck_ ” and “ _Merlin_ ” when he’s coming, and Merlin, trembling all over, is coming too. Arthur likes to think it’s because of the sound of his voice.

Merlin goes quiet at once, his limbs loose. Miraculously, he’s still _asleep_.

Arthur huffs in resignation, “Only _Merlin_ ”, and proceeds to gingerly lay Merlin back on the bed, getting up and finding a towel.

He cleans them both the best he can, then changes into different pants and hides the ruined ones under his bed. He contemplates whether or not he should sleep on his own tonight, but in the end decides, more questions will be asked if he’s not beside Merlin in the morning.

Thus he slides next to Merlin, hugging him tenderly, nuzzles into his hair, and, content, falls asleep.  
  
  
~  
 _Okay, let’s face it_ , Arthur thinks the next morning, looking at himself in the mirror while brushing his teeth, fleeing to the bathroom as soon as he woke up next to Merlin, who, red as a tomato, was trying to awkwardly crawl out of the bed.

“Let’s face it. I sort of had sex with Merlin. And I sort of liked it. And Merlin sort of doesn’t even know. Possibly.”

He stares at his confused reflection some more, because this whole situation is sort of fucked up.

The next day Merlin tells him, blushing and not meeting Arthur’s eyes, that the nightmares are gone, so perhaps they should stop sneaking into each other’s beds. Arthur passionately agrees.

They proceed to ignore one another for a whole month afterwards, spending almost all of the time with their mates, as they did before, sleeping in privacy of their separate beds.

Slowly, it all returns to the mutual agreement to put up with each other till graduation day. At last, it goes back to normal.

They treat their relationship purely like a business deal  again, and, in a way, it is.

Until it isn’t.

 


	9. Chapter 9

It starts with Merlin behaving strangely.

Being way too quiet, way too sad. Noticeably lonely.

It continues with Arthur being too aware of that.

Aware of Merlin’s frowning expressions, and... other things. Like Merlin’s hands.

His lips.

The endearing way he sometimes blinks, the infuriating way he sometimes stares at Arthur’s lips.

It leads to Arthur drinking some rum Kay’s stacked in his suitcase, “It’ll take your mind off things, Arth, you seem a bit tense lately, is everything okay?”, and Arthur knows, he knows it’s absurd to try and relax with the help of alcohol, but it’s been maddening lately, what with Merlin and his stupid face and his stupid magic and his stupid nightmares-or-should-i-say-erotic-dreams-about-Arthur and Arthur being unable to forget it.

And, of course, this leads to Arthur getting drunk and coming into the room late at night, just as Merlin, fully dressed and armed with a flashlight, is, apparently, _sneaking out_.

“Whoa, where do you think you’re going?” asks Arthur, putting a hand square on Merlin’s chest and pushing him back a little.

“It’s actually none of your business...” Merlin pauses, and looks at him closely.

“Arthur, are you...drunk?” His tone is curious and a little bit cautious.

“What if I am? I’m old enough to drink, _Mer_ lin.”

Arthur gets in Merlin’s personal space then, talking practically into his face, perhaps to make Merlin understand better or maybe because he’s really unsteady - it’s hard to tell.

“Yes, okay, you are. It doesn’t mean you should, though, you cabbage-head.”

“My head doesn’t look like cabbage.”

“Your brain does.”

“You can’t know that. You haven’t seen it.”

“It’s written on your face.”

“This cnvrsation ‘as nawpoint, _Mer_ lin.”

“You’re slurring.”

“Am not.”

“Are so.”

“Shut up.”

And Arthur doesn’t really know why he shouldn’t touch Merlin. He’s talking ridiculous and Arthur has to shut him up or they’re never going to end this stupid argument. And Merlin is the worst arguing partner ever ‘cause he always says these smartarse things Arthur can’t instantly invent a reply to and goes with a lame “shut up” and Merlin looks smug and Arthur wants to kiss the smugness off his face and...Actually, this is a great way to shut Merlin up, Arthur thinks.

A brilliant way.

“Arthur...Arthur, what are you doing?”

Merlin takes a tiny step back, but Arthur is so close, he can hear Merlin’s breath quicken, and has a weird sense of deja vu, making him shiver: the next thing Merlin is going to say will be Arthur’s name, completed with a moan.

Arthur takes Merlin by the shoulders, then cups his neck.

They sway a little, because Arthur's legs are wobbling, so he gently pushes until Merlin takes two more steps back, hitting a bedpost and automatically bringing his hands back to touch it. Arthur takes this opportunity to grab both of Merlin’s wrists around the post with his right hand, bringing the left one to touch Merlin’s face.

“Arthur.”

Merlin’s voice is more unsteady than Arthur’s legs, and his heartbeat is too fast. Arthur can feel it: the rabbity rhythm of Merlin’s pulse against the fingertips of Arthur’s right hand.

Distantly, Arthur wonders if perhaps Merlin’s scared. Trapped against the bedpost, unable to use his magic, with no one to help him. Arthur is, without a doubt, physically stronger than Merlin. And drunk. And...

“‘M not going to do anything you don’t want me to, Merlin. You do know that, right?” he whispers into the boy’s ear, barely brushing it with his mouth. “But I...”

He draws back a little, finding Merlin’s lips again and almost, almost touching, but not quite.

He glances from Merlin’s eyes - pupils grown wide, making him seem feral - to his lips, back and forth, unsure. There’s little chance of Merlin resisting, but Arthur’s never one to take advantage.

Besides, how much more _fun_  would it be if Merlin was the first one to lose control?

“I just want to kiss you so much.” Arthur’s not sure if he whispered or just thought it.

Judging by the way Merlin shudders, he did say it out loud. Their bodies are mere millimetres from touching, but Arthur’s stubborn on keeping that gap.

They stay like that for a minute, staring at each other’s lips, the air around so electrified one could practically hear the prickling.

Their breathing quickens with every passing second, the tension making Arthur go mad with want.

At last, Merlin croaks,

“Why are you doing this?” and his lips are so, so close.

Arthur feels the magnetic waves go nuts and bites down on his lower lip to keep from involuntarily closing the distance. He feels hypnotized and is a little scared of losing himself completely, his body acting on its own accord, being drawn to Merlin’s. To break the spell, Arthur moves to breathe into Merlin’s ear again,

“I know about your dreams, Merlin.”

There is a sharp intake of breath. Arthur chuckles.

“You mean the nightmares?”

Oh no you don’t, thinks Arthur.

He lowers his head, pressing lips to the tender skin of Merlin’s neck, simply unable to hold on much longer without any contact. This gesture brings a strange mix of relief and heat to his chest.

Merlin gasps and helplessly turns his head so Arthur has a better access. Arthur smirks and murmurs into Merlin’s skin, his voice low,

“Am I your nightmare, Merlin?”

Merlin loudly draws in a breath, his fingers curling and uncurling, as if searching for something to hold on to, but Arthur just clutches his hand tighter. It’s not as if Merlin’s protesting.

Actually, quite the opposite.

He seems to be holding back - and poorly so, to be honest. His eyes are closed, head thrown back, neck bared, his skin hot and flushed. Merlin’s breathing is shallow and rapid, the pattern erratic, sometimes stopping altogether to silence wayward moans.

“ _Merlin?_ ” Arthur softly groans. He’s doing it on purpose. He realizes it, and is not going to stop. Arthur remembers the effect it had on him when Merlin was moaning his name. This? Is his revenge.

“Wha?..” Merlin is positively lost.

Arthur smiles a little. Then pulls back and waits until Merlin opens his eyes only to see that his gaze is fogged, pupils blown so wide now, he looks maniacal. Crazy. “Oh God, this is so hot” Arthur is careful not to say it out loud.

“Am I your nightmare?” he repeats, tilting his head.

Between the two of them, despite being (slightly) drunk, he’s the one who still has the control, the presence of mind.

Merlin seems to be completely gone.

Arthur briefly wonders if he lets go of Merlin’s hands, whether or not he’ll find himself pinned to the bed with some kind of spell magical people use. For sex. Frankly, this idea is insanely arousing.

“You...” -- and then Arthur’s not sure whether Merlin told him he _was_  being a nightmare or simply gasped, because his voice faltered, and he started... _twisting_.

And okay, maybe alcohol is really bad for you, because Arthur’s brain registers _things_  sort of slowly.

Very _important_  things.

Like the fact that Merlin is actually _arching_  into Arthur, their bodies finally, _finally_  touching.

And also, the fact that Merlin is really, really hard.

And the fact that Arthur is, indeed, too.

And _oooh_.

“Fuck, Merlin,” Arthur shuts his eyes tightly when Merlin presses his hips flush to Arthur’s, and then his mouth is being attacked.

Merlin hungrily captures his lips, gently biting, then kissing it better, and biting again. Arthur lets him, bringing his free hand to Merlin’s hip, feeling the movement. They are very, very slowly thrusting against each other, almost no action at all, and no one is sure who’s torturing whom.

Finally, Merlin whines impatiently, tugging at Arthur’s lower lip, and that does it. Arthur not only starts responding to the kiss - he takes over it entirely.

At first, Merlin tries moving his lips, but then gives up, letting Arthur devour his mouth. And Arthur does, passionately - licking at his full lower lip, then casting light, chaste kisses all over that seductive cupid bow, scraping his teeth until Merlin’s lips are very red and sensitive. Arthur proceeds to deepen the kisses, and when Merlin unsurely opens his mouth, and clumsily moves his tongue, it suddenly dawns on Arthur.

He draws back and looks at Merlin, takes in his flushed face and slightly trembling posture.

“Merlin,” he asks softly, “I’m your first kiss, aren’t I?”

He doesn’t really need an answer, seeing as how Merlin goes from “flushed” to “fit to put a tomato to shame” in a matter of seconds, lowering his fluttering eyelashes and releasing a shaky breath. He doesn’t reply and goes completely still.

Arthur takes a breath, and brings his hand from Merlin’s hip to his face, gently cupping his cheek and caressing it with his thumb.

“Merlin,” he whispers tenderly, “Merlin. Look at me.”

Merlin doesn’t really, and Arthur just keeps quietly stroking his cheekbone, his lips, his chin until Merlin gradually raises his eyes and finally looks directly at Arthur.

They lock gazes for a moment, and then Arthur ever so carefully closes the distance between them again, this time being extremely delicate.

He starts with shallow, closed-mouth kisses, going deeper little by little. Merlin’s inexperience makes kissing with tongues slightly awkward, but not uncomfortable. In fact, it’s nice.

And when Merlin starts responding with more confidence and finesse - he was always a fast learner, the sod - it gets brilliant. Actually _brilliant_ , and Arthur’s so lost, he misses the moment when they start moving again, but this time - faster, bolder, more certain.

After a couple of minutes, Merlin whines pitifully into his mouth. Arthur breaks the kiss, panting heavily. Merlin takes this opportunity to hide his face into the crook of Arthur’s neck, mouthing something unintelligible.

“What was that, _Merlin_?” And maybe Arthur’s being a little mean, but he can’t help it: all those weeks of abandonment, knowing _for sure_  Merlin wants him - was pure torture.

He’s determined to get _it all_  now.

“Touch me,” Merlin’s voice is thin and pleading.

“The magic word?” Arthur chuckles. In all honesty, he’d ravish Merlin irrevocably right then and there, but the pleasure of being in control feels way too amazing.

“Prat,” sighs Merlin.

“Eep! Wrong answer”

“I hate you so much.”

“Just say it.”

“Please,” breathes Merlin, licking at Arthur’s neck to encourage him.

And Arthur takes it for what it is - a surrender.

He threads his fingers into Merlin’s hair, still securing the boy’s wrists with the other hand, and angles Merlin’s head up to kiss him again, promising, before slowly guiding his arm lower. Merlin whacks his head on the wooden pole  when Arthur _finally_  touches where it’s _much needed._

“Your dream,” Arthur breaths, “What was it about?”

Merlin only proceeds to buckle his hips, his breath stuttering. Wordless.

Arthur presses his hand impossibly tight then, not allowing any friction. Merlin whines, but Arthur is determined to get an answer from him.

“Arthur, please...”

“ _Tell me_.”

Merlin’s put-up facade diminishes completely as he’s desperate to do _anything_  to make Arthur _move, for Christ’s sake_.

“It started as usually: I was trying to get to you before it was too late,” he pants against Arthur’s lips, and then blushes violently, and lowers his voice. “When I got to you, however, you weren’t dying. You were...naked”.

Arthur considers this for a second, before stepping away and swiftly pulling off his shirt, his pants, and, briefly hesitant, his underwear. Merlin is watching him in the meantime, his hands falling at his sides, suddenly free.

Then, Arthur returns to him, and, stealing a quick kiss, rumbles: “What else?”.

Merlin can't help smiling, threading his fingers into Arthur’s hair and gently tugging.

“What are you trying to do, make all my dreams come true?” he teases.

Arthur makes a soft chuckling sound, “Only the good ones”.

Merlin almost unconsciously brings his hand to Arthur’s hard stomach and instantly feels the muscles clench.

Arthur hides his face in Merlin’s neck, his breath harsh and hot and open-mouth. As much as he would like to be in control, he really isn’t.

He’s rock hard, he’s absolutely naked, and Merlin’s hands are back.

_Oh._

_Merlin’s hands are back._

Arthur quickly lifts his head and glances at Merlin in alarm, and yes, he seems to have realized it too.

The little bugger is grinning, and he has that glint in his eyes again, making him look simultaneously hot and insane.

 _Insanely hot_.

Arthur briefly wonders if their minds are connected somehow because of their “bond”, but then Merlin flicks his wrist and Arthur finds himself _pinned to the bed_.

What a plot twist, he thinks hysterically, Merlin is really damn predictable.

However, as the full realization of his position dawns at him, Arthur groans - whether in exasperation or pleasure, he’s not sure.

Merlin giggles, and Arthur starts to doubt his sanity, because what is it with him and the maniacal looks every time he gets to do some magic on Arthur?

“Merlin --”

“You want to know my dreams, Arthur?” Merlin interrupts, crawling on top of Arthur’s thighs and straddling them. He casually takes Arthur’s cock in hand and slowly starts pumping it, as if only to have something to do with his hand.

Arthur’s lying there like a bloody starfish, gulping for air, the inability to move driving him positively mad, while Merlin’s chatting away as if they were on a freaking picnic. Oh God, he hates Merlin so much.

Who, presently, is staring at him from above, bringing his left hand to caress Arthur’s lips, fondling Arthur’s cock with the right one.

“This is what it looks like,” Merlin’s eyes go tender then and he starts petting Arthur’s hair to appease him. (“REALLY NOT HELPING, MERLIN,” Arthur wants to shout...But, for some reason, doesn’t.) He brushes Arthur’s cock with him thumb, then continues stroking up and down, deliberately slow, and resumes speaking.

“I find you naked, and I was so afraid of losing you, I start shouting at you for being reckless. You don’t listen, of course, (because you never do), you just come up to me and kiss me and I’m so angry, I throw you onto the nearest soft surface and hold you down.”

Merlin sits upright and looks curiously at Arthur’s cock. It’s leaking with precome, and Merlin is spreading the moisture lovingly along Arthur’s shaft, making it glisten. Then he slides his hand up and down, as if giving it a shot. Merlin discovers with delight that it’s rather better this way - his hand goes amazingly smoothly and fast, for one, and also, now Arthur’s panting breath and choked-off groans are venting into the “uncontrollable loud cries” territory.

By this point, Arthur is sobbing a little.

This is too much.

And it’s not enough.

Too much heat and not enough friction, and he expects his head to burst any second now.

Merlin silences, then bends down and, closing his eyes, whispers again Arthur’s cheek,

“If you can’t move, you won’t go anywhere. I just can’t lose you, Arthur, I can’t." He sighs and stills his hand on Arthur’s cock, tapping it lightly with his fingertips.

At once, Merlin shifts down Arthur’s body, closing his lips around Arthur’s flushed cock, wrapping it in the wet heat of his mouth, and starts bobbing his head up and down.

Arthur’s really not sure if he’s sobbing from pleasure or moaning from torture at this point.

Merlin is inexperienced and a little clumsy, but it’s still good. Arthur looks at him, and oh he’s a picture. His eyelashes make him look so beautiful that he doesn’t seem the person to sexually torture people at all (“You can say that again,” thinks Arthur), his chin smeared with saliva and cheeks unusually blushed.

Merlin glances up at some point, and they lock gazes for a second before Merlin moans, shivering, and drops his hand to hurriedly open his trousers.

Oh, no, decides Arthur, you’re not getting away so easily. Arthur moves to push Merlin’s clumsy hand away from his briefs and realizes that he _can_.

Merlin seems to be too far gone to remember or maybe care about the spell and _oh this is going to be fun_.

Arthur grabs Merlin, promptly turning them around and holding Merlin’s wrists near his head.

Arthur would look smugly at him, if he wasn’t so completely crazy right now, with his heart in his throat, thinking only _merlinmerlinmerlin_.

He bites Merlin’s lips to get back at him, swallowing Merlin’s moans, and brings Merlin’s arms higher so he can secure them with one hand. He’s clawing desperately at Merlin’s shirt, trying to get it off.

“ _Arthur_ ,” Merlin whines and arches sharply.

“Shut _up_ ,” Arthur orders and slightly nips at Merlin’s lower lip to prove his point.

Arthur finally manages to figure out what to do with the shirt. He lifts it, almost taking it off completely, but stops at Merlin’s wrists and secures the fabric around them. Arthur shifts their bodies so they’re lying diagonally on the bed and ties Merlin’s hands to a bedpost. When that is taken care off, he gets rid of Merlin’s pants and takes a second to appreciate the sight unravelled before him.

Merlin is twisting, writhing, arching, trying to get _something_. He is breathing loudly, grunting and moaning “arthurarthurarthur”, as if it can bring him some relief.

“You have no business being like this”, Arthur says, crawling up Merlin’s body until he can lavish his lips again. “You were the one was was enjoying _torturing_  me, remember?”

Arthur threads his fingers into Merlin’s soft hair, just breathing open-mouth against Merlin’s kiss-swollen and bitten lips.

“Please,” Merlin whispers, arching again. His hard cock collides with Arthur’s and Arthur closes his eyes at the sensation.

Play time is definitely over: if he doesn’t do something about this soon, he’ll go legitimately insane.

He grips Merlin’s hips tightly with both hands to stop them from moving and smirks:

“Please what?”

“Please --” and Merlin starts whining helplessly, trying to put all his longing and lust into words and failing.

Arthur almost can’t do this anymore. He licks the lobe of Merlin’s ear and murmurs:

“ ‘Please touch me Arthur’? ‘Please let me go Arthur’? _‘Please make me come Arthur’_?”

Merlin moans loudly and his hips stutter.

“Yes, please, the...the last one,” he whimpers, and then, “ _Ah_ Arthur.”

That does it.

Arthur’s willpower vanishes completely, the way Merlin said his name bringing back all the memories, and it is just too much.

Shaking, Arthur wets his palm and brings it down, taking both of their furiously red cocks in one hand, petting Merlin’s hair with the other, peppering his face with kisses and whispering soothingly, “Shh, shh, it’s okay, you’re gonna feel better now, shh, Merlin” as they move relentlessly, thrusting against each other.

Merlin’s moaning louder and louder, trembling all over as he starts bucking his hips in earnest, and Arthur is so, so close, God, when suddenly Merlin’s words from earlier that evening spring to his mind.

He cups Merlin’s face, looking into his lucent blue, wild eyes, and says,  
“Merlin, I’m not going anywhere. Ever.”

Next second, Merlin lets out a sharp cry, and Arthur watches Merlin’s face change as he comes.

Merlin’s mouth falls open, and he blinks rapidly, but resists shutting his eyes because he wants to see Arthur’s dazzled face and, preferably, sear the moment into his memory.

There is such intensity in Merlin’s stare, full of something simultaneously wonderful and terrifying, that a bunch of emotions of drastically different kinds jolts through Arthur, and pushes him over the edge.  
  
  
  
As they are lying there, holding hands and stealing glances at each other, Merlin’s expression suddenly becomes curious and he reaches to touch the ring hanging on Arthur’s chest.

Arthur feels weird.

It's the first time anyone ever sees it: he always made sure to hide it from intrusive eyes.

It isn’t “bad” weird, though, just...startlingly intimate.

“Would you like you tell me?..” Merlin says softly, fondling with the jewelry. He lifts his gaze, and there’s so much honesty there, so much trust and tenderness, that Arthur doesn’t really hesitate.

“It belonged to my mum,” he sighs, covering Merlin’s fingers around the ring with his own and examining the piece with his eyes, like he’s been doing ever since the treasure became his. He used to spend hours, just sitting somewhere with the ring in his palms, touching the metal, and trying to figure out whether he was fit to wear it yet. In the end, he would always sigh, get up and decide to set this matter aside till next time.

“Why do you wear it on a chain?” Merlin asks curiouly, winding the links around his index finger.

When Arthur doesn’t answer, he looks up at him and raises an eyebrow.

Arthur huffs and smiles shyly. He doesn’t want to seem preposterous, but then again - Merlin has always known what honour meant to Arthur. So he tells him about being “good enough” to wear the ring, about all those hours he spent judging himself, and when he's finished, Merlin is silent, staring at him.

Arthur glances at him through his lashes, suddenly nervous.

But there is something in Merlin’s eyes, like devotion, like...

Something, that just makes Arthur’s heart beat faster, his breath catch and suddenly Arthur is very, very scared of losing this newly found fortune.

Perhaps, Merlin felt the same, because he buries his hand in Arthur’s hair, tugs him close and kisses him gently and a little too clingy.  


~  
  
Arthur woke up to the crispy smell of the cold pillow next to him. The panic rushed through him, like a wave, and he promptly sat up.

First thing he saw was, of course, Merlin. The _sneaking-out_   Merlin.

“What are you doing?” Arthur demanded loudly, a little hurt and a lot - angry.

Merlin jumped and abruptly turned around, promptly tripping over himself and almost falling.

“Arthur, Christ! You scared me!” After finding the balance again, Merlin put his hand to his chest, breathing harshly.

Arthur narrowed his eyes. So many questions were buzzing in his head, the why’s and the where’s and what the hell’s, but he preferred another tactics.  
  
 _A Very Simple Tactic Of One Rule To Make People Talk:_  
 _#1 (and only): Be silent. Sooner or later, they will crack._  
  
However, with Merlin it got complicated (as did pretty much everything). Arthur could never predict whether the tactic was going to work, or would Merlin just say a lot of rubbish and quickly bolt out of the room.

This time, though, the plan seemed to be working. Merlin stood there, bashful, for a couple of minutes, then sighed and went to sit on the side of Arthur’s bed.

“I think I found the source.”

Arthur blinked.

“The source of evil magic?” Merlin clarified, the corners of his mouth tilting up. “You’re so adorable in the morning, Arthur. And blessedly silent. I like you most in the mornings.”

Arthur blinked again and was about to say he wasn’t “adorable”, of all things, but then it caught up with him.

“Wait, the source of...Merlin!” he exclaimed, annoyed. “Were you about to _sneak out of here alone to go and check it out?_  Alone?!”

Merlin dropped his eyes, guiltily.

Arthur huffed in disbelief.

“Honestly, Merlin! I knew you were an idiot, but _this_?! And after all we’ve been through? What were you thinking?!”

Arthur couldn’t keep still anymore. He climbed out of bed...only to find he was absolutely naked. But this was the last thing he cared about right now.

As he tried to find some clothes to put on, rambling away about Merlin’s lack of responsibility, Merlin was just sitting on the bed, staring.

“Merlin? Are you actually listening to what I’m saying?” Arthur inquired, irritated. He felt really tempted to add “My eyes are up here”, but that would be be...dramatizing this, somehow.

Besides, there was nothing wrong with _taking a good look at what Merlin was not going to get anytime soon because he’s being_  --

"-- a bloody fool!"

Merlin seemed to finally realize he was being _really obvious_ , but the infuriating oaf just grinned, _grinned_ , and innocently drawled:

“You can’t accuse me of staring at the pretty when it’s practically in my face.”

Arthur just groaned in frustration. Merlin laughed.

Finally Arthur was dressed and as he went to the bathroom, he dragged Merlin in tow, so the reckless idiot could tell him all about this evil magic source whilst Arthur brushed his teeth.

It was Sunday, and most of the students were out, or doing their (sordid) homework, while some were still sleeping.

Arthur and Merlin were alone in the bathroom when it happened.

All the mirrors suddenly started shuddering, and the boys ran out of the room just in time when all the glass burst into pieces, sending the shreds flying every each way.

“Arthur, we need to go,” urged Merlin.

Arthur nodded, quickly retreating to their room for the sword replica, and followed Merlin out of the Academy.

The weather was really nice. It was about ten in the morning, and the spring sun had already melted the snow, so the green grass made the fields look cheerful. The birds were chirping, the air sharp and delicious, the sun rays warm on Arthur’s skin.

And, as a rule, it’s usually on these bright peaceful days when all goes promptly to hell.  


~

They started walking away from the Academy, towards the forests that stretched for miles. As they were getting closer, Merlin suddenly stopped Arthur with a hand of his forearm.

“Arthur,” he seemed to gather courage to speak. “No matter what happens there, no matter who...what the source is, I want you to stay completely calm and focused. It’s really important. Okay?”

Merlin took a breath, and he seemed so sad, so burdened.

“Merlin...Is there something you’re not telling me?” Arthur clutched Merlin’s hand with his own, surveying his face.

“I...I’m not sure,” but something about Merlin was shifty, his eyes avoiding Arthur's.

“Okay,” sighed Arthur, because there really wasn’t much else he could do. “You know me. _Always in control_ ,” he wiggled his brows and smiled at the innuendo.

Merlin glanced at him and laughed softly, shaking his head, “Oh, you’re just full of it.”

And they continued walking in a brisk pace, hands occasionally touching, until Merlin laced his fingers with Arthur’s and squeezed. They were really close to the forest now, the Academy a little shape in the distance behind them.

Merlin glanced at Arthur one more time, then looked forward again and stopped, tugging Arthur back a little.

Merlin seemed to be examining the air in front of them, and Arthur started contemplating asking when Merlin promptly lifted his hand, letting go of Arthur’s, and whispered unintelligible words.

Out of the blue, Arthur saw a new picture appearing before his eyes: there were some kind of torches, installed in a vast circle that Arthur and Merlin were almost standing in; inside the circle, a sign has been carved into the ground.

Arthur couldn’t make anything out of the lines and angles, until, at once, it blazed up.

A cold shiver ran down Arthur’s spine as he realized what the symbol was.  He wished he were mistaken, but the flaming lava was clearly outlining the borders of what represented the two halves, the knight and the sorcerer. Soon, the magical part was going to melt into its twin, destroying it and thus becoming whole. A whole without a half. Arthur swallowed, numb with trepidation.

 

As soon as it happens, the knight was going to die. 

Hastily, he surveyed the area and finally noticed a dark kneeling figure on the left, that seemed familiar, but he couldn’t quite pinpoint who it was. Closer to the middle of the circle, however, there were two more silhouettes, and one of them he’d recognize anywhere.

“No. No, it can’t be.”

A wave of absolute horror washed over him, reminding Arthur of the incident with those monsters. As the silhouettes gradually transformed into solid bodies, one of them turned around. When it approached the middle of the circle, its appearance was vividly clear.

“Hello, dear brother,” smirked Morgana.

 


	10. Chapter 10

“Morrie?” Arthur was so shocked, he didn’t even realize he’d used Morgana’s childish nickname.

She, however, scrunched up her face in disgust.

“Stop with the endearments, Arthur. You have no right to call me that, anyway.”

“What are you talking about?” Arthur’s voice went loud as he lurched forward.

Merlin grabbed his hand in order to remind Arthur of their agreement. Arthur drew back a little, but the tension in his body was visible, his posture stiff.

“Oh, don’t tell me you don’t know,” sing-songed Morgana, walking from one torch to another, lightning them up. “Oh wait, you don’t!” she laughed, the sound filled not with joy, but with madness.

“Morgana,” Arthur inquired patiently, “What are you talking about?”

Morgana stopped and examined him for a moment, and then, with poorly disguised rage, spat out,

“Look at you, Arthur. The Golden Boy, with a powerful sorcerer at your side, the best knight, the Perfect Son. A reason for Daddy to be proud.”

She was shaking.

Arthur still couldn’t understand what this was about, so he held onto the only thing he knew - their father.

“Morgana, listen, is this about Dad? You know he cares about us, he’s just been busy and, besides, the Academy’s rules...”

Arthur was interrupted by Morgana’s deafening hysterical laughter. He stood, transfixed, silent, and waited for her to calm down.

When she finally did, she declared, wiping tears from her eyes,

“Oh God, Arthur, no wonder Merlin got it first. You’re thick as a tree.”

Just as Arthur was going to demand explanations - for Christ’s sakes, this joke really wasn’t funny anymore, Morgana turned deadly serious and came up very close to him.

“I’m not you sister, Arthur. I never was.”

Arthur blinked.

“It was all a lie. Your precious Daddy lied to you. And my Dad?..You wanna know where he is?”

She took a breath, looking Arthur straight in the eyes. It was so absolutely surreal, all of this.

“He’s dead. Because his knight wasn’t there to protect him.”

Arthur didn’t really know what to say, hell - he didn’t even know what to think, but what he did know was that this was his sister. And okay, maybe they weren’t related by blood - but who cares? They grew up together, side by side, and that’s what’s important.

“Morgana, please,” he said softly. “You know Dad loves you. We care about you, and you _are_  my sister. Come on, let’s just go and talk this over, yeah? Why didn’t you say anything earlier, anyway?”

There was a split second when Morgana’s eyes seemed to warm up, her expression sad and regretful, and she looked at Arthur with sorrow.

“I was scared. And when I did try to tell you, you never listened.”

But then she grew stone cold again, the soft features gone, replaced my merciless smirk, “You were always too busy showing off with your _fellow knights_. Anyway, it’s not important, now.”

She leaned in and whispered theatrically,

“It’s show time.”

At once, the flames seemed to shine brighter, and the symbol in the middle started glowing, as if it was on fire too.

The person standing turned out to be Morgause, and she and Morgana bowed their heads to talk about something in hushed tones.

Meanwhile, Arthur turned to Merlin.

“How long have you known?”

Merlin stared at the ground, speechless.

Arthur tugged on his hand, still entwined with Arthur’s.

“Merlin?”

Merlin apologetically glanced at him.

“I didn’t know for sure. That’s why I was going to check it.”

“How long?” repeated Arthur, insistent.

Merlin sighed, and after a moment, replied quietly,

“Since the incident. I’ve started suspecting since the incident.”

Arthur gritted his teeth, feeling the blood rush through him. He yanked his hand back from Merlin’s grip, and that was Merlin’s cue to look Arthur right in the eyes as he continued desperately:

“I tried talking to her, Arthur, I did, but she wouldn’t listen! She was going on and on about how everyone betrayed her and I just couldn’t, I didn’t...”

“You could’ve told me!” he knew he was yelling, but he didn’t care.

Arthur was furious - at his sister, at his father, but most of all - at Merlin, who _knew the whole time_.

“You wouldn’t believe me!” Merlin threw his hands up in despair. “Arthur, think about it!”

Arthur was going to tell Merlin _all about his thoughts on this matter_ , when they heard a loud yelp and, turning simultaneously, saw Gwen, running towards the circle from the left, straight to the kneeling figure.

“Lance!” exhaled Merlin in horror.

And just like that, it dawned on Arthur.

He remembered hearing rumors about Cendred, Morgause’s knight, disappearing, and how he hadn’t thought much of it at the time. He remembered how he had noticed Morgana’s bracelet with “Best sister” engraved on it and, when asked, she had replied, “Oh, it’s just this thing...We make matching bracelets for each other, it’s nothing really, just a bit of fun,” and he saw a similar bracelet on Morgause’s hand now.

He should have known better.

He remembered how Morgana had always envied Merlin’s free-flowing power and how she wanted to be “fearful”. Granted, now she scared Arthur, but not because of her “power” or whatever, but because he didn’t know her anymore.

The litany of Gwen’s “Please, please, Morgana, don’t, I’m begging you, stop”, as she hugged the motionless Lance, trying to protect him with her body, pierced Arthur’s hearing.

He recovered from his trance just in time to see Morgause sigh and say: “It’s too crowded here”, and then - then everything happened too fast.

When Morgause lifted her hand towards Gwen, Merlin’s eyes shone gold and he threw both of his palms forward.

A transparent sort of cupola appeared in the air, separating everyone from Morgause the very second the sorceress had shouted the words. The spell reflected off the peculiar magical wall and, as is the law of nature, backfired.

The next moment Arthur heard an ear-splitting cry. He had to close his ears with his hands, but the sound was inhuman, making his veins stand out. The blood was pounding maddeningly inside his head, and he saw Merlin clutching his head as well, wincing.

Arthur only realized it was Morgana screaming when he cast a glance at her. She was trying to get to a lifeless Morgause, clawing at the hardly visible wall, but the cupola surrounded the five of them securely. Arthur looked back at Merlin and saw his eyes still glowing gold.

Suddenly, Morgana sharply turned around and shouted:

“You!,” throwing an accusing finger towards Merlin. She looked purely psychotic.

Merlin realized what was happening too late.

He was still holding the shield up, so when Morgana threw a spell at him, he couldn’t even deflect it, just looked up in time to see Arthur’s

very blue, very wide eyes staring at him, as the spell shot him in the back,

because Arthur

jumped in

to protect Merlin

with himself.  


\--  
 _No light, no light_  
 _In your bright blue eyes_  
 _I never knew the daylight_  
 _Could be so violent._  
 _A revelation_  
 _In the light of day:_  
 _You can’t choose what stays_  
 _And what fades_  
 _Away._  
\--  


Merlin clutched Arthur’s shoulders as he was falling to the ground.  
“No, no, no, Arthur, come on, no,” he chanted, petting Arthur’s hair, casting spell after spell after spell, indifferent and oblivious to what was going on around him.

Meanwhile, Morgana seemed paralysed with the realization of what she had done.

Gwen was trying to make Lance, who was supposedly under a “no-free-will” spell, move.

The birds were singing cheerful tunes. The sun was shining brightly, making the grass seem not just green, but emerald. The sky was wonderfully azure.

The world was full of life.

And Arthur was irrevocably dead.  


\--  
 _But I’ll_  
 _Do_    
 _ **Anything**_  
 _To make you_  
 _Stay_  
\--  
 

This was the time for Merlin to wake up to Arthur’s sleep-warm body.

Come on, he should wake up now.

He should wake up and everything will be okay, he’s going to kiss grumpy Arthur senseless even if he has a terrible morning breath.

Only, Merlin was still there, rocking back and forth, holding Arthur close to him, petting Arthur’s shiny hair and trying to warm up Arthur’s cold lips with his own.

He didn’t know how much time had passed.

It could have been minutes, it could have been hours.

Merlin had tried out each and every spell he knew, and now was just whispering “pleasepleasepleasepleasepleasearthurplease”.  

If anyone came up to him now and tried to pry his fingers off of Arthur, he would burn them where they stood.

He was never leaving him. Ever.

But suddenly, some sort of force threw Arthur’s body back, positioning it near Merlin’s knees. Merlin’s eyes were puffy from endless tears (“When did I start crying?”), and he rubbed them to see what was happening.

In the circle of torches, Morgana started twitching, as though she had electricity running through her. Then, a gentle light travelled from her body to Arthur’s, making him shine for a quarter of a second, and when the light subsided, Arthur’s skin was white no more and his lips began to gain colour.

Just as Morgana choked out “No” and fell to her knees, sobbing, Arthur opened his striking aquamarine eyes, the colour matching the sky, squinted at the sun, then turned his gaze to Merlin and, after looking at him for a moment, frowned,

“Merlin, have you been crying?”  


 

\--  
 _You’re my_  
 _Head_  
 _You’re_  
 _My_  
 _Heart_  
\--  


The thing is - no one really understands what magic is.

Some think it’s a weapon of power, others believe it’s a choice. There are tales of infamous sorcerers, who controlled their magic so well, they were practically undefeatable.

But what no one actually gets - not even Merlin, despite the fact that his bond with magic is stronger than most people have, - is the simple truth.

Magic is, in reality, love.

And just as love, you can’t control it, not really. You can try and make something good out of it; or you can spoil it with jealousy and revenge. Either way, you can’t kill it, and you can’t stop it.

Maybe Morgana was bitter and scared, and undoubtedly confused. And maybe she didn’t consider Arthur to be her brother anymore, to be anyone to care about.

But her magic? Her magic remembered every tiny thing, every single moment when Arthur’s courageous little heart was beating for both of them. How he helped her build a dollhouse; how he protected her from a stray goose; how he swam across the lake to get her favourite kite, trapped in the trees on the other bank; how he never, ever left her alone and how he discreetly ate her portion of the much-hated porridge so she’d get the dessert. Morgana’s magic not only loved Arthur - it was love itself.

And when Morgana accidentally harmed him, her magic did everything it could to save her brother - it became his breath, his blood, his heartbeat, confirming old as the Universe axiom - love is the ultimate power.  


~

Lance finally came to his senses, seeing as Morgana didn’t hold any control over him anymore, and Gwen hurriedly led him away.

Morgana was quietly howling on the ground, Morgause’s body lying close to her.

In five minutes, there were paramedics and a couple of teachers, even the Headmaster himself, taking care of matters. It was going to be a long day - calling Uther, explaining the situation, writing a report.

But none of that mattered for Merlin and Arthur, who had quietly left while no one was looking and were now back in their room. They shed their clothes, leaving only their underwear on, and were presently lying under the blanket, holding each other.

Merlin was listening closely to Arthur’s heartbeat, restlessly touching his face, his body, his hair, making sure Arthur’s here, alive.

Something cold touched the side of Merlin’s face, and he drew back to take a look.

The ring glistened in the afternoon sun, and Merlin smiled.

“Arthur,” he said softly.

Arthur opened his eyes and raised his eyebrows.

“I think you’re entitled to wear this now.” Merlin tugged at the chain, and Arthur silently took it off.

He stared at the ring as he slowly detached it from the chain, and then held it in his hand, uncertain.

“Arthur. You saved my life.” Merlin carefully took the ring and gently put in on Arthur’s index finger.

Then, Merlin tenderly kissed Arthur’s fingertips and curled back to his chest.

He felt Arthur chuckle, the sound vibrating through their bodies, and murmur,

“Well then, we truly are the halves of a whole, I guess.”

Merlin wasn’t really sure he understood what Arthur meant, but frankly, it wasn’t important.

“I have a confession to make”, Arthur mumbled.

Merlin only hummed in response, breathing in the delicious smell of Arthur’s skin.

“Remember ‘The Lance Plan’”?

“I thought it was ‘The Lance Test’”

“That’s because you did’t know the whole thing.”

At this, Merlin raised his head to stare at Arthur in surprise. His wide-eyed expression made Arthur even more nervous, but he was determined to do this. He automatically brought a hand to his chest to touch the ring, but then he saw it sitting on his finger, heavy and proud. Arthur bit his lip and muttered,

“I kind of made sure Lance would tell Kay? And everyone knew when to enter. And I kind of planned all of it.”

Merlin huffed and said, “Arthur, you can’t possibly _plan_  someone to act one way or another. You can’t _make_  people spill secrets.”

For some reason, Arthur felt offended at this.

“Can so, I was the best one in Strategy classes!” he pouted. He really loved digging himself deeper, now didn’t he.

Merlin stared at him, silent and serious.

“Why did you do this?” he asked quietly, at last.

Arthur hid his face in the pillow, and started explaining. In the middle of his speech, however, Merlin lightly grabbed him by hair and tugged impatiently, “Arthur, I can’t hear a word, you’re mumbling everything into the pillow!”

Arthur turned to him, then and, blushing even deeper, whined meekly,

“Please don’t be angry with me, Merlin.”

Arthur glanced up through his lashes and did his best “pretty puppy”-face.

Merlin laughed and swatted him on the head, instantly petting it better though.

“Arthur, that was ages ago, we were kids!”

He snuggled into Arthur’s chest again.

Arthur sighed in Merlin’s hair in relief, touching the delicate skin on Merlin’s nape. Merlin kept fondling with Arthur’s sandy-blond locks, silent, and then brushed his thumb across Arthur’s lips to get his attention,

“Just promise you will discuss stuff with me before acting on it, okay?”

“Pinky promise?”

“Prat.”  
  
  
  
  
~*~  
  
 _As you enroll into the Academy, you are at the beginning of your own story of greatness, and how it will end depends on you and you alone, for your actions shape your destiny, you are the creator of your own path, and every choice matters._

 

**Author's Note:**

> SSA Extras: notes on the side.
> 
> *1* : they’re 7, don’t you think it’s too dark and mature?  
> they are 7, but there is magic n stuff and Val’s compensating, because he didn’t like this one kid in the group he had been playing with the year before, and so he pushed him, and all the other kids started protecting that one, but the one he had pushed turned out to have magic and he gave Val’s face a big hairy mole, and after Val ran to his parents and cried, his dad scolded the boy and told him to scare those kids ‘cause fear means power, and power means everything, and “No stupid freak with tricks will ever be able to laugh at you again”, so. And his mum was silently cooking, because that’s what she did, besides, his dad’s word was always the important one, girls didn’t matter in srs bsnss. Oh, and also Val doesn’t really realize what “kill” means, like Arthur knows that when someone dies it’s so bad, he wouldn’t want to kill anyone so someone else would feel what he did, and Merlin had once accidentally killed a butterfly, carelessly shutting a window, and he had been crying for two days because of that and he swore he’d never ever kill something. He was so upset, his magic created another butterfly to cheer him up, and since then it was its default way to deal with Merlin’s sadness.
> 
>  
> 
> *2* What did the Headmaster want to talk to them about?  
> Like, where they are going to live, what it meant to be paired up, that sort of thing. You know Kilgharrah, he loooves talking lol, also Arthur refused to acknowledge he was Merl’s “destined”, and Merlin was silent, but stubborn, but their light (from the crystal) was the brightest so Kilgharrah decided to talk to them personally and end all the quarrels.
> 
> *3* This is not a mindless key-smash, it actually means things. More specifically, I’ve been told it means “Bitch, please, now you’re in trouble” in Welsh, though I can’t be 100% sure since I’m not Welsh :S
> 
> *4*  
>  **Disclaimer: This particular symbol is an original invention, born of sleep-deprivation and way too much philosophy, with the sole purpose of appearing in this story. Any resemblance to actual dark magic rituals is purely coincidental and please don’t witchcraft me if I somehow offended your culture.**  
>  The symbol is a compilation of a hexagram, which, in this image, is formed by two triangles and a cross, but another possible depiction of a hexagram is called I Ching, a figure, composed of six horizontal lines, where each line represent either Yang (the unbroken lines) or Yin (the lines with a gap in the center). Atop the hexagram there is Yin-Yang, with Yin being on fire. It’s all connected, and if Yin consumes Yang, it doesn’t become a whole, it becomes nothing. Because you can’t destroy a part of the whole without destroying the whole (meaning yourself too).
> 
> * Yesterday (sort of?), I spent 21 hours straight (I kid you not) working on this story. Thus I want to warn you, children: here’s what happens to those who don’t go to bed in time. Brace yourselves for the sick mind of a sleep-deprived writer.
> 
>  
> 
> ~ “Suddenly, there was a noise coming from down the corridor”  
> Writer’s edit, conveyed into a short story:  
> Exposition: aaah. I still don’t like it. IDK, it’s ovbs that the only direction was the corridor, but the noise wasn’t really FROM there, like it was somewhere, but where exactly - hard to tell. ugh.  
> Rising action: I CAN USE YONDER, WHY NOT USE YONDER. Well, no. This is supposed to be a scary scene. lol also there’s is a “in the neighbourhood” option omg maybe I should sleep, it’s getting ridiculous  
> Climax: “YOU CAME TO THE WRONG NEIGHBOURHOOD ARTHUR,” SOMEONE SAID, AND THEN ARTHUR SAW THEM - _THE OSTRICHES_
> 
>  
> 
> ~  
> beta: i’ll do it tomorrow morning :D  
> writer: okay, I hope you don't forsget lol, my fingers look like mini sausagas  
> god the world is surreal  
> beta: lol, nope, no forgetting but I'm not gonna reply anymore cause you definitely seem like you need sleep hahahaha  
> so go SLEEP  
> GOOD NIGHT  
> NOW  
> writer: my ears hurt cos a laugh because my fingers are literally mini saousages  
> dancing across the keyboard  
> have you ever seen sauasages dancing  
> i have  
> ...  
> sausages is a terrible word btw
> 
> \---  
> A really big (125k) THANK YOU BLESS YOU goes to my brilliant beta. Without them, I'd never finish this and/or would have a mental breakdown. (More feelings on this subject after de-anoning)
> 
> And thank you OP for the prompt, it is lovely and I hope you'll like the story :)
> 
> The fanmix  
>   
> download links and a little extended A/N can be found here:  
> [Where did the other rabbit go?](http://wawrthur.livejournal.com/1716.html)
> 
> And that is all :)Thanks for reading, guys! I do hope you’ve enjoyed it ;D


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